Running Ghost
by Black Hawk
Summary: When Dave's past threatens to harm his future he finds that the only way to forgive is to truly return to ones self.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Running Ghost  
  
Author: Duma  
  
Disclaimer: The recognizable ER characters belong to Warner Brothers and their Associates. The rest are mine. I am in no way receiving money from this piece of writing- It's just a great way to get feedback while you're trying to become a good writer! So don't sue me... like everyone else I have nothing important to others materially. Unless you count money as being important, and let's face it.... that's just sad... ;)  
  
Archive: Anywhere as long as you ask ;) And if you want to use any of my characters in your story, just ask, too!  
  
Category: DM/Cast  
  
Spoilers: Episodes of Season's 6 and 7 that reveal stuff about DM'S character, so yeah, hardly any, lol ;)  
  
Summary: This is a fic that is unlike any I have read, it explores more creative areas of character history and deals with human nature.  
  
Rating: PG-13, but quite a few dirty words.  
  
Feedback: Please, oh please! I need anything and everything and will love you dearly if you reply, even if it is only one sentence... or one word! I need all I can get! (as I'm sure you can tell by my writing...)  
  
Running Ghost  
  
A battle cry echoed out of nowhere and everywhere at once. Sitting on his brown, muscled horse, sweat glistened through the now smeared red, black and white war paint. His arm was raised up, holding a spear with three feathers. The wind blew back his long hair, caressing his skin as he felt its familiar, energizing power. Another war cry ripped from his throat as he began to charge into the battle below. He was hit by a wave of excitement, sorrow and fear.  
  
He yelped as he bolted upright, covered in sweat. He breathed heavily for a moment, letting the familiar surroundings of his room comfort him. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. 6:00. He still had two hours before he had to start work. He moaned as he lay back down and dropped his right arm over his eyes. "Not again..." he whispered. Knowing that he couldn't get back to sleep he got up and trudged over to the shower. Some warm water would feel nice.  
  
As he let the soothing liquid run down his relaxed face he remembered his dream: a sea of emotions that always made him wake up in a cold sweat. He hated the feeling of fear that he was reminded of in his dream. Helpless fear like that was the worst thing in the world- at least he held it in that light.  
  
As he dried off and came back into his bedroom he could see the light of a promising day out the window. It pushed back the emotions and fears that could seemingly hold him hostage throughout the night. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt then clicked on the radio as he comfortably fell into routine and the true vivacity of his life settled upon him.  
  
  
  
"Carter, I've got a hairline fracture in two," Kerry extended the chart as John spoke. "I've got it..." he grabbed the chart as he passed by.  
  
Randi covered the receiver of the phone. "Greene, I've got a doctor in New York on line one who says you called him?"  
  
"Yeah," Mark muttered as he went for the phone.  
  
Dave appeared and Weaver shoved a chart into his hands as she limped by. "Geeze, what's eatin' her?"  
  
Randi blew a bubble and popped it. "She's been like that all morning. I guess Gabe Lawrence is coming to visit."  
  
"You mean that nice old alsthimers guy?"  
  
"That's the one," she replied distractedly, typing on the keyboard.  
  
Not really caring to instigate further conversation he turned at Jing-Mei's voice. "Dr Chen, you look nice today," he smiled and plastered on his cocky expression as he noticed Jing-Mei was sporting a ponytail.  
  
"You don't," she muttered as she reached past him to get a chart.  
  
"Malucci! Get to work!" Weaver's voice came out of nowhere and he hoped that he'd hidden his measurable jump of surprise. "Yes ma'am," he said, as good-naturedly as always as he walked to curtain three, systematically isolating his senses from the patient he was about to see. It was a process he was used to and relied on. He didn't know how any doctor could live remembering the names of each patient; actually knowing who they were. He'd jump off a bridge before he let himself get that far-gone. He knew himself, and he knew he couldn't handle caring- bonding with each patient. Not only was it emotionally draining, but also it would add more pain and guilt to his life- something that he was desperately trying to avoid.  
  
"Hello Mr... O'Connor, I'm Dr. Dave," he spoke cheerfully as he looked at the chart. "What seems to be the problem?"  
  
"I've been having these pains in my lower back that just won't go away. This morning I had trouble getting out of bed."  
  
"So did I," Dave grinned at the middle-aged, balding man. Mr. O'Connor laughed.  
  
"Have you performed any strenuous activities lately?" Dave asked.  
  
"Not really. I mean, just recently I got in trouble at work and now find myself doing a lot of filing- bending and crouching a lot."  
  
"Hmmm... You ever exercise, you know, work out Mr. O'Connor?" he tried to keep his stance non-judgmental.  
  
"Well, no. I've got a wife and two kids and unless you count carrying a five-year-old, I guess not. I've got a mortgage to pay and with work... I've been under a lot of stress lately."  
  
"I see," Dave scribbled on the chart. "Well, I'm gonna order some tests for you and a nurse will be in shortly to take you up to X-ray. In the meantime I suggest you start getting more exercise. It relieves stress and strong abs mean a lot less backaches."  
  
Mr. O'Connor nodded. "Thanks, I'll consider that."  
  
"Sure thing," Dave replied as he smiled and left to tell one of the nurses.  
  
The rest of the day passed fairly slowly and usual for the ER. Normal for Dave meant the predictable situation of another staff member realizing their mortality. Today it was John. After having been taught some Spanish pick-up lines by Dave he had wound up with a bloody nose. The new Hispanic nurse obviously didn't enjoy being greeted as "la puta flaca," or roughly translated in English, the skinny whore. Lucky for Dave his shift ended just as Chuni sat John down in Exam 2, stuffing his hands full of Kleenex. Dave merely slipped by and waltzed out the door, winking at John as he did so and happy that he couldn't understand whatever nasal and muttered threats John threw at him through the tissue.  
  
"Poor guy," Dave muttered to himself as he unchained his bike. 'I'll have to hook her up with him later on or somethin',' he thought.  
  
His hockey game started late because the rink was double booked, and by the time he got home most of Chicago was sleeping and he was exhausted.  
  
The hallway to his apartment was dark and he could hear the muffled news report coming form 12A. Old Mrs.Ganshaw stayed up until eleven every night just to make sure Russia wasn't going to bomb the U.S. while she slept.  
  
He keyed the door and threw his duffel bag to the side by the coat hook before squirming out of his jacket and turning on the lights. A wave of adrenaline hit him as he noticed a figure in a chair watching an extremely quiet hockey game. His eyes darted to the empty beer bottles and immediately the dark feeling of dread settled over his heart as fear choked his throat.  
  
"Hello, David," a voice said as the figure got up and turned towards him. "It's been a long time." 


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell do you want

"What the hell do you want?" he spat out, loosing some of his initial fear. 

"Now that's no way to greet your father," the big man held out his arms in a mock show of compassion. "I ran into a friend of yours who said he knew you in medical school. Said that you were back in Chicago." 

Dave swallowed hard, trying to control the fear that made him scowl.

"Thought I'd drop by and see how my boy was doin'," he took a step towards Dave who immediately stepped back. 

"I-I'm fine," Dave was against the kitchen counter.

"Well, you don't look so fine," his dad suggested, trying to converse as he walked forward. 

"That's, that's because I don't want you here, I-" his father's backhand sent pain radiating through his cheek as he fell to the floor. 

"Damn you!" his father yelled as his face contracted in anger. "What the hell are you doing here?! Hiding from me?!" 

Dave held his cheek as he looked up at his father, his mind racing with words but his body unable to express them. 

"Using up all of your inheritance on medical school?! Damn boy, you're an idiot."

Dave slowly got up, his eyes never leaving his drunken father. 

"That damn bitch of a mother shouldda' left me the money. Fucking half-breed bitch-"

"Don't talk about mom like that," Dave's voice was strengthened by anger as he locked eyes with his father. 

"Why the fuck do you care? Huh? What the hell are you gonna' do about it?" 

Dave breathed shakily as he tried to keep his composure while locking eyes with the personification of all that he feared. His father regarded him for a moment, then a disgusted look crossed his face. "You fuckin' red skin," he spat as he pressed his arm against his son's neck and slammed him into the wall. The force of the impact sent waves of pain radiating outward from his back while the pressure on his neck increased, making it painfully hard to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut as he gripped the arm that was stealing his breath, unable to pry it away. After a few more long moments his father stepped back. Dave fell to the ground, his right hand going to his throat as he coughed. Between gasps of air he saw his father slowly backing away, with tears on his cheeks. He looked as if he meant to say something but instead turned and walked away.

Dave remained on the floor panting, making sure his father had really left before daring to climb to his feet. He could hear the large man clomping down the hallway and waited until there was silence before getting up. His muscles were all ready tired from hockey and now a new pain chimed in. 

As the adrenaline slowly dissipated from his system he looked around shakily. Everything was as it should be, his father had just let himself in and guzzled beer while watching TV and waiting for him to come home. He let out a heavy sigh and traipsed into his bedroom, then half-sat and half dropped onto his bed. 

"Aw man..." he moaned, rubbing his face with his hands. He couldn't believe this was happening. He'd tried so hard to escape his past. Hell, he happily moved to Grenada when he realized it was his last shot at medical school. He'd hoped he'd never have to see his father again, but now it seemed that all of his attempts to escape from him were futile. He'd tried so hard to forget, to leave that dark and miserable part of his life behind him, and now felt like throwing up upon feeling that familiar taste of fear invade him. His father had always had that kind of control over him and he hated it. He'd planned in his head so many times what he'd say and do if confronted by his father again, yet all of that had been lost the instant he recognized the familiar, sadistic glint in his father's eyes. 

He'd always tried to ignore the crude comments that others made towards him, but it was times like these that they all came creeping back to him, ringing true. All of the confrontations with the people he worked with came back in a wave, sinking his heart and soul. He wished he could apologize to all of them and not behave like such a jerk but he couldn't. The minute he'd let his guard down he'd open himself up to pain, and he couldn't live like that. He'd let himself sink into the habit of talking before he thought. That exact problem had led him into a fight with Benton and glares from his colleagues that pierced his soul, although he'd never let them know that. They were happy believing that somehow he managed to live day after day as a careless, sloppy, opinionated jerk. And the worst part was that he liked them- all of them-which was what made each comment worse. He looked up to Peter Benton; respected him as a man who didn't let anything or anyone get in his way. He admired Kerry's strength for being such a commanding woman despite how hard it must have been to live with a crippled leg. And Luka's courage for coming to another country, learning another language and succeeding in so many ways beside the obvious demons in his past. Carter for overcoming what had happened to him and Lucy on Valentine's Day, Carol for following her heart, Jing-Mei for being so strong in the face of the immense loss she felt at giving up her baby for adoption, and Abby for persevering through life, no matter how many obstacles it seemed to throw at her. He knew all of this, even if they didn't think he did; yet he could never bring himself to say it. He knew that anything anyone had ever criticized him on was true. He was wasting his life by wearing a mask to the world. 

He heard a soft whine from under the bed. He got onto all fours and peeked underneath. "Comanche- hey 'lil guy," the brown of his eyes locked with those of his frightened puppy. "Come on out," he reached under and scratched his fluffy head. He remained sitting and after a minute his half yellow lab, half golden retriever climbed out and into his lap. 

"It's okay little friend," he hugged his puppy close, comforting both of them. "My little Comanche warrior..." he buried his face in Comanche's fur. "Jerk," he said out loud, thinking that his father had probably scared the new puppy to death, making it hide under his bed like that. The puppy started squirming and Dave let go, laughing as he watched the fluffalufagus spot his food dish and wag his tail. "More like Comanche pig than warrior..." 

He remembered when he first found Comanche, all alone and cold out in a cardboard box- abandoned in an alley. Dave had been riding his bike, anxious to get out of the rain when he saw the box tip over. Curiosity won over the want to go to a warm home immediately and he had stopped. No one else was around so he figured the two, two-month-old puppies were abandoned. He put them inside his jacked and pedaled home, happy that his landlady allowed pets. The puppies were quick to gain back lost energy and were soon playing on the floor of his apartment- and causing trouble. That was when he decided to give Comanche's sister to the little girl down the hall. The simple act had made him a hero and she often stopped by to see how Comanche was doing and to let him and "Cherokee"- as she had named her puppy, play together. Dave had given Comanche his name as he had watched him fearlessly explore his new surroundings and tackle his sister, like the Comanche warriors who had terrorized the early Texans. He had originally meant it to be a nickname, but it had stuck, and as soon as little Amanda from down the hall learned that Comanche was an Indian name she gave her puppy the only Indian name that she knew- Cherokee. 

He walked into the living room and saw a picture taped on the wall that she had made him as a Christmas gift. Of course the eight-year-old was no Monet, but he loved it all the same. He was inclined to agree with anyone who said that kids and dogs are the best kind of people. He was happy to know that right now Amanda was probably in her bed and asleep with Cherokee and her parents nearby. He loved that little girl and couldn't imagine why she thought of him as she did. Anything he expressed the slightest interest in she wanted to know about. She knew that he was a doctor and came to him once when she had skinned her knee playing in the street and her parents weren't home. She felt comfortable to cry in front of him- and didn't stop as he tried to coax her into wearing a band aid with neosporin. She insisted that it would make it hurt more. That was when and old story his mother had told him came to mind, and he shared it with her. After hearing the story of one who had learned courage, she had let him put on the band aid and the pain she felt left soon after. His shift hadn't started until nine at night and he'd wanted to get more sleep before he had to leave to work, but he didn't mind letting her stay. While she ate a snack she'd wanted to know where he'd learned the story. She'd asked so many questions he was starting to get annoyed but still answered patiently that he had learned it from his mother who had learned it from her mother and so on. Once she'd learned that it was an old Lakota story and that he was a quarter Lakota Sioux a million more questions arose. She wanted to know all of the other stories that he knew and about his tribe. 

He remembered his mother. She was beautiful with long black hair and shining eyes. To him it seemed that she was always smiling, and he knew how much she'd loved him. He'd been Amanda's age when she died- right after his father had started drinking more and becoming violent. When he remembered his mother and all of her warmth he couldn't help but think of his grandparents back at the reservation in South Dakota. He had spent many happy summers there until his father decided that when he was thirteen he needed to get a job over summer vacation. The last time he had been there had been when he was sixteen- when he had saved enough money for a round-trip air ticket. He missed his life there. 

When Amanda asked him those questions he didn't really have anything to tell. He was just some kid who was half Italian, a quarter Sioux and a quarter something else- Irish according to his grandmother. His mother had been half Lakota and raised on the reservation. Life there was different and she didn't know any better when she fell in love with the first decent guy that she met while living on her own in the big city for the first time. 

He'd answered Amanda truthfully. "I don't really know what to tell you, I mean, what do you want to know?" When she asked about "his people" he didn't want to tell her that he didn't know because he hadn't cared about what his grandfather had rambled about and that no one in this world did. He knew about the massacre at Wounded Knee and many other atrocious injustices inflicted upon the Sioux people, but he couldn't tell an eight-year-old that. She'd probably learn about it in school, anyway. After receiving his response she'd dropped the subject, disinterested by his lack of interest. Her parents had eventually come home after being trapped in a jam-up for an hour and thanked him enthusiastically for looking after her. They were such nice people and he suddenly realized that he never behaved as "Malucci" in front of around them. He was Dave- he was himself. He didn't have to pretend- and he liked that.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day at work no one said anything about the obvious red mark on his cheekbone except Carter

The next day at work no one said anything about the obvious red mark on his cheekbone except Carter. 

"Hey, you alright? Looks like you walked into a door," John had said good naturedly as Dave had entered the lounge to change. 

"Doorframe, actually," Dave had chuckled, not wanting to tell the truth for the life of him. John had turned to leave, telling Dave that he hoped he'd be more careful in the future, when Dave had remembered the day before. "Hey, Carter! Sorry about yesterday."

John had laughed. "No problem," and rubbed his sore nose as he walked out the door. 

Two obese women claiming they were food poisoned and one heart attack later he was out on lunch break. He bought a juice drink from the vending machine when he realized that he wasn't very hungry. He found himself alone in the lounge, beginning to think of the previous night. What did his father want? At first he thought that it was the money that he had inherited from his mother after she died, but by now it was gone, having been used to pay for med school, living in Grenada and then back in Chicago. He knew she would have been proud of him to see him as a doctor, helping people. He'd been thinking of her a lot lately.

"Dave?" his reverie was broken as he noticed Jing-Mei standing next to him, stirring a cup of coffee. He felt embarrassed as obviously he had been staring into space long enough for her to get a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Jing-Mei," he laughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I was just... spacing out."

She smiled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, "I'll say..." 

"What could you have possibly been thinking about to get so out there?" She sat down at the table beside him. He looked over at her and in the split second that it took for his face to morph into his characteristic grin she thought she saw genuine resentment in his eyes. 

"Nothin.'" He got up and strolled out, tossing his empty bottle in the garbage can as he did so. 

She watched him leave and for a fraction of a second felt rude about what she had said until she completely forgot as she remembered who she was talking to. 

The only thing Kerry noticed was that Dave didn't attempt to talk back to her when she had lectured him about being respectful of other peoples' property, which included not hanging her puppet Mr. Whiskers from the flagpole. Initially she was happy that he was finally learning to take responsibility for his actions, yet just as she was beginning to congratulate herself on her excellent disciplinary skills she learned that a mentally ill patient had done it to tell the aliens where he was, which made Malucci's behavior seem extremely odd. 

For Dave's part, he couldn't understand why she would use hanging a puppet from a flagpole as an example of disrespecting other peoples' property, but wasn't in the mood to argue. He kept trying to figure out how his father had discovered where he lived. 

Dave scribbled some last notes on a patient's chart and erased the name off the board before before setting it down with a sigh. "I'm outta' here," he muttered to Randi who was characteristically staring at the computer screen and hitting keys. "Kay," she replied distractedly. He turned to leave when she suddenly remembered something. "Hey, Malucci, wait." 

He turned around to face her but she was already looking at the screen again. 

"That guy find you?" 

Dave cautiously took a step forward, his voice quiet and his face inquisitive. "What guy?"

Hearing the seriousness in his voice she gave him a sideways glance. "Yeah, there was some guy here yesterday. Said he was a relative of yours." 

"Oh," Dave tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "Did, uh, did you tell him where I live?" he leaned on the desk next to her. 

"Yeah," she looked at him now. "He looked a little bit like you." 

"Oh, it's uh, it's probably my uncle." His regular visage had returned and now no longer intrigued Randi had turned back to the computer. "Hummph," she said, disinterested. 

Dave looked over her shoulder. "Ace of spades," he said. She clicked on it and the computer made a buzzing sound as she lost. Dave laughed and she smacked him over her shoulder.

When he got home he took Comanche out for a walk. Before he'd left the hospital he'd checked his locker. He always kept an extra apartment key in his locker in case he misplaced his normal one, which was more than once. The day before he had taken the key out of his locker as he couldn't find the original, thinking that it had just been lost in the vastness of his backpack and not caring to look for it. At the time he'd thought nothing of it, but now he realized that his backpack had been sitting out. He had needed to temporarily store some hockey gear for the game that night and didn't want Kerry to find out and get angry. He never knew what was going to set her off, especially in the anxious mood she was in with Dr. Lawrence coming to visit. There wasn't any room in his locker and he trusted everyone that came into the lounge, so he'd left his backpack out under his locker. His dad had probably sneaked into the lounge and found the key in his backpack, which wouldn't have been hard to identify since he had his player ID from the previous season attached to it as a key chain. Now he wished he'd taken Carter up on his offer to store his backpack in his locker, but he had shrugged it off as too much of a hassle as their shifts ended at different times. Dave momentarily cursed himself for being so trusting, but then abolished the thought as he remembered that it wasn't the staff's fault. 

As he walked down the hall with Comanche the door to Amanda's apartment swung open. "Hi Dave!" 

He turned around and smiled. "Hey Amanda. How's the most beautiful girl in the world?" 

She giggled, "I'm good." 

"Amanda, it's time to eat," her mother said as she joined her daughter in the doorway. "Hello David." 

"Misses Dominguez," Dave inclined his head.

"Bye Dave!" Amanda yelled enthusiastically as she bounded back into the apartment. Dave laughed and Mrs. Dominguez smiled as she gently closed the door. 

As soon as they were in their apartment Comanche peed on the floor. 


	4. Chapter 4

"What are you looking for

"What are you looking for?" Cleo snatched up the bottle of pills she had come for. 

"Amoxacilin… but I don't see it here. I asked for it over an hour ago." 

Cleo gave him an unbelieving glance. He ignored it and muttered under his breath, "Never thought we'd run out of Amoxacilin…"

"Did you try supplies?" 

"What?"

"Most of the time I need something and don't want to wait for it I go down to the supply room. We've got just about everything there." 

"Really?"

"Mmmmhmmm," Cleo smiled knowingly. "I'd try down there if I were you." 

"Me, too," Dave sighed and held up his hands in exasperation. 

"Good luck," Cleo called over her shoulder as she and Dave parted in opposite directions. 

"Great," Dave sighed as he switched on the light to the supply room and aisle after aisle became exposed. At least it seemed like it. He never really thought of the "supply room" as being that big, but now realized his mistake. He stepped down the two stairs onto the cool, pavement floor and began skimming the labels of medicines on the shelf. There didn't seem to be any order to them. He moved the next aisle down. 

Suddenly the lights went out and he heard the door slam shut. After a small jump of surprise Dave froze, his ears and eyes straining in the darkness to detect whatever presence he felt was in the room with him. After a few seconds he could hear feet shuffling and backed up. He stopped when silence fell again. He breathed in and out slowly, not daring to make a sound. He felt the adrenaline welling up inside him pressing him to make a critical decision; fight or flee? He felt the blood that rushed past his ears with each beat of his heart and feared that the simple thump of his heart that had become so loud would give away his position. 

Then suddenly he was struck on the back of the head with an object that shattered. The immediate jaw-clenching pain sent him to the floor as he felt kicks of ferocity chase the air out of his lungs. Fists began to rain down on him as he struggled to move. He kicked out instinctually, hitting the body of his assailant, giving himself a moment of peace as he heard his attacker stumble and fall. He coughed as he tried to breathe and held his pain-filled stomach with one hand while slowly pushing himself up with the other. He was vaguely aware of pain in his hand as the shattered glass on the floor sliced through his skin. 

He could hear the other person moving as he realized he could not yet regain his feet without throwing up from pain. He began to slowly pull himself towards the golden-brimmed, rectangular shape of the door, which now seemed so far away. A heavy boot fell upon his shin, causing him to yelp in pain. 

"You always were a pussy."

He recognized the disdain in the familiar voice and wanted to cry. He wished he could plead with his attacker to stop but he knew it would be useless. It hadn't ever worked in the past so why would in work now? 

"What do you want?" Dave managed to gasp out to the looming shape of his father above him. 

"To correct a mistake I made a long time ago," came the deep reply from the caverns of darkness. He felt a hand grab him roughly, pulling him to his feet before slamming him against the wall. Hitting his head again he lost all strength to fight back, and instead fought the spinning, dark world around him. He felt his body being thrown onto the glass-littered floor again, then a hard object connected with his side. It felt like his side had collapsed as he felt another blow to his back. One final kick after hearing a few satisfactory moans from his victim, Dave's father left in silence.

Dave couldn't move; he could hardly breath. After what seemed like an eternity the pain that was screaming at him from everywhere slowly began to fade and he surrendered to the shadows of unconsciousness.

"Has anyone seen Malucci?!" an exasperated Kerry called out to no one in particular, holding a chart in her upraised hand in an effort to draw attention. All she received were quick glances and submissive scurries in the opposite direction. Kerry sighed and turned to see John trying to sneak by with a cup of coffee. 

"Carter, have you seen Malucci?" 

John shook his head. "Not for a few hours; since he came in this morning." 

"I saw him a little over an hour ago." 

Kerry spun at Cleo's voice and somewhat rudely barked, "Where?" 

"In the prescription closet…" Cleo was a bit taken aback by Kerry's sudden turn on her. Kerry turned away again as she hobbled up to the board and began to erase Malucci's name off of a patient's, muttering, "I swear, when I get my hands on him I'll…" 

"He said he was going to the supply room," Cleo offered to Kerry's back. 

"The supply room?" She looked at Cleo who shrugged, not wanting to say that she had suggested it for fear of Kerry's wrath. 

"Carter!" John froze in his tracks. She hadn't even looked towards him, how did she know he was trying to escape? "I want you to go to the supply room and see if you can find any trace of him." She turned back to Dr. Finch. "Cleo, I'm sorry," her voice was softer and much more compassionate. "I'm just in a bitchy mood right now and I'm taking it out on you which isn't fair." 

"It's okay," Cleo smiled to show no harm done. "You should see my mother." Kerry laughed. 

John sighed as he trotted down the stairs to the lower floor where the supply room was located. Why did he have to do these things? He couldn't help but wonder if Kerry would have sent him on such a menial task before he was on probation. He crossed the small, tiled space between the end of the stairs and the supply room door in four long strides before swinging it open. He let out an annoyed breath as he was greeted with darkness, then reached to flip on the light. "Malucci, you in here?!" He called, not expecting an answer as he quickly glanced about. Something glinting in the light caught his eye. It looked like a few pieces of glass on the floor a few aisles down. 

He trudged down the two steps to find out what glass instrument or bottle had broken when he realized that there wasn't only glass on the floor. "Malucci!" he suddenly began to run, seeing his friend's body among the glass shards, clearly injured. As he got closer the loose ends of the situation rapidly tied together. "Shit!" He crouched down next to Dave, trying to assess the severity of his injuries. He gingerly touched the skin around a bleeding gash on his friend's head. It wasn't that deep, but being a head injury it had caused a small pool of blood to from around Dave's neck. Despite all of his years of medical training John doubted himself as to what to do. He wasn't used to on-the-scene traumas. He was taught to roll the victim on their side, supporting the head and back in case of spinal injury, to safeguard against vomiting. However if Dave had been down there since Cleo last saw him he doubted that choking on vomit was probable cause for moving him. "Dave, can you hear me?" he touched his shoulder. No response. Damn, John was cursing himself in his mind. He rose and quickly fumbled for his cell phone, hit memory and dialed the first ER number he had listed. 

"Cook County General, how may I help you?" Randi answered. 

"Randi? It's me, John Carter." 

"Carter?" she'd just seen him, his shift couldn't have ended yet. 

"Look, Randi, this is important. Malucci's hurt; I'm down in the supply room. Get a gourney down here right away and call in a surgeon!" 

Randi was shocked into motion at the severity of his voice. As she listened she nodded rapidly, slammed down the phone and spotted Luka. "Yo, Luka! Malucci's hurt; John needs a gourney to the supply room ASAP!" Without questioning Luka jogged to Malik who was also processing what he'd just heard, if not slower than the doctor did. "C'mon!" Luka grabbed a side of the gourney Malik was standing by and together they headed for the elevator. 

"MVA! BP's 220 over 50! Compact vs. big rig, this guy took the brunt of it!" Yelled the paramedic as Jing-Mei and Abby jogged alongside. Seeing them coming Mark jogged into the trauma room before them.

John had grabbed an oxygen mask from the shelf and held it over Malucci's nose and mouth. His eyes never left his friends face as he took his pulse. "Come on, Buddy." He wasn't going to loose another friend. Not like he lost Lucy. He heard a low moan as Dave moved his head slightly. John smiled, glad that his friend was regaining consciousness. Dave opened his eyes and slowly focused as well as he could on John's face above him. "C-Carter?"

"You betcha," John tried to sound comforting. Dave closed his eyes again, not used to the light or the pain it caused. The pain breathing caused. "You just hang in there buddy, help is on the way." Dave tried to nod but gritted his teeth and let out a hiss of pain when he did so. "It's okay. You took a nasty hit to the head, don't try to move just yet. Do you remember what happened?" John wanted to keep Dave talking. The longer he was awake, the better his chances. 

"I don't… something happened," was Dave's muttered reply. Obviously, and under other circumstances John would have found Dave's response funny. 

"Apparently someone jumped you…" John hoped he could instigate thought. 

Just then Luka and Malik burst through the door. Dave reopened his eyes at the sudden sound. 

"Over here!" John yelled, getting to his feet, careful of the oxygen canister. 

Luka glanced over at him before turning his attention to helping Malik pull the gourney down the two stairs. John turned back to Dave. "You think you can get up?" 

Dave slowly tried to push himself into a sitting position, but when John saw the pain he was in he quickly bent down to support him. With the help of the other three men Dave managed to climb onto the gourney. The pain the movement had caused left him fully awake and all he wanted was to fall into the peace of unconsciousness once more. 


	5. Chapter 5

"He's bleeding out

"He's bleeding out!" 

"Shit! Where's it coming from?!" 

"Looks like… the left ventricle…" 

'Okay, somebody clamp it!" 

"Got it!" 

"BP's dropping, heartbeat irregular!"

"Damn, I thought we had 'em. All right, let's go with 3 cc's and charge to 50! Clear!" 

"Still irregular!" 

"100! Clear!" 

"That's gonna have to be stable enough."

"You're gonna stitch up his ventricle?"

"Since no surgeon's here, yes! Hand me that needle!" 

The white ceiling patched with electrical, rectangular lights flashed overhead, annoyingly. He could hear the other doctors around him shouting things, but he decided to concentrate on staying conscious rather than listen in. He felt himself being lifted for a moment and the pain of being set back down made him wince. 

"How ya' doin' there, Buddy?" Carter's voice became discernable a he opened his eyes once more. 

"I've been better." 

"I bet," Carter looked up. "Let's get 5 cc's of Morphine going here." 

Haleh cut off his shirt with a pair of scissors to reveal black and blue. She hissed inwardly at the bruised discoloration and swallowed hard as she noticed a two-finger-width shard of glass protruding from his abdomen. "Haleh!" Luka's voice drew her attention away from Dave momentarily. He jerked his head in the patient's direction. "Rib count." She nodded quickly, her mind now set to the task ahead. She looked up at Dave's face. "Dave, tell me if this hurts, hon." She didn't see how it couldn't. He nodded. She slowly worked her way across his chest, felling each rib, praying that it was intact.

"Aw!" Dave yelped and Carter held down his shoulders as his body instinctually jumped in pain as she came to a particularly dark area or bruising. 

"Sorry," Haleh muttered, knowing she needed to continue with the task at hand if she were in any way to help Dave, even if it caused him pain. Dave clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the pain as she finished. However, Haleh could still feel his muscles tense in pain now and then.

She looked up to Luka. "Two broken, four possible fractures." 

Luka nodded, listening to Dave's chest with his stethoscope. His breathing was normal which meant that his lungs hadn't been pierced.

Abby wet a cloth with diluted disinfectant and began to wipe away the blood on the side of Dave's head. He turned his head to the right so that she could reach it easier. It was then that he noticed trauma two. A man lay on the table, his chest cracked open. Dr. Greene was hovering over the chest opening with a pair of clamping scissors and a needle. He announced something inaudible then moved to the other side of the patient. The man's face came into view. He was bloodied and unconscious, but Dave could recognize the face of his father. He suddenly cared about the previously nameless patient in the opposite trauma room. 

"What happened?" His voice was quiet. 

"Sorry?" Luka prompted while shining a light in Dave's eyes. When he was done the momentarily light blind Dave blinked. "What happened to the man over there?" 

"Uh…" Luka glanced up momentarily at the man across the way. "I don't know." 

"MVA that came in a few minutes ago," Haleh clarified as she handed John a syringe. Dave looked up to his friend. "Is he going to make it?" John quickly glanced over to see Mark charging up the paddles. He wondered why the hell Dave cared. "I dunno."

Dave turned his head back to trauma two. 

Dr. Greene was shocking the man. 

"Dave, tell me if this hurts," Luka placed his hands on the young doctor's abdomen, preparing to feel for any signs of internal bleeding. 

Dr. Greene stripped off his gloves and looked to the clock, his mouth moving as a nurse recorded what he said on the patient's chart. Time of death.

"Dave?" Looking up after not hearing a response Luka followed Dave's gaze to the emptying trauma room, then back to Dave's concerned face. Through his life he had seen the face of desperation, desolation, and anguish and knew from working in a Chicago ER that he was more perceptive to facial expressions than most. Luka softened his voice as he noted Dave's visage. "Did you know him?" 

Carter looked up suddenly, his attention matching that of Abby's. 

After a pause Dave spoke. "Yeah… he was my father." Abby felt her breath catch in her chest. John hanged his head slightly and cursed inwardly. Luka felt a wave of surprised yet stayed focused on the situation. "I'm sorry." Dave slowly turned his head to look at him, their eyes locking. The confusion and pain in Dave's eyes matched the understanding in Luka's. After a moment of silence Luka looked down. Linking together the chain of events that had led up to that moment. "Is he the person who attacked you?" 

Dave thought as he returned his gaze to the empty trauma room, weighing the consequences of his answer. Feeling weak, tired, and beaten he slowly nodded. 

Carter and Abby exchanged surprised yet somewhat angered expressions and felt immediately more comfortable with the situation believing that one would be happy to see one's attacker dead. 

"All right, let me finish, Dave, then you can go see him." Dave's slight nod was his only response. "Tell me where it hurts," Luka once more placed his fingertips on Dave's abdomen, preparing to press down.


	6. Chapter 6

The body was cold and still

The body was cold and still. Only the man's face could be seen as a white sheet covered the rest of the mutilated body.

Dave pulled his hand away. His head cocked to the side, his visage of pain and sorrow was subtle. He leaned on the IV pole for support. When he took a step forward he felt a sharp pain in his stomach where the glass shard had been. Abby had pulled it out for him so that it would be less painful to stand. 

The quiet and peaceful silence of the room was broken by Dave's husky whisper. "You were my father. You weren't a good one, but you were my dad all the same." Looking down at the dead form of his father before him he felt a surprising amount of loss and regret. Luka and John conversed in low voices in the hallway as they waited for their friend. He touched his father's cold hand contemplatively in as much of a goodbye gesture as he could muster. 

He turned to John and Luka and gave a slight nod that meant he was finished. However, as he took a step forward he felt another sharp pain in his abdomen where the glass had been that made him clutch his bandaged side in pain. If one later asked him to describe the pain he most likely couldn't, except that he was suddenly filled with a sick sense of dread and certainty of his own death that many a wounded soldier has experienced. 

"You all right?" John was at his side in an instant, grabbing his arm to support him. Dave unscrunched his eyes; fighting nausea he breathed in shallowly. "I dunno," he grunted, his hand still pressing against the now red bandage. Luka noticed the crimson as it spread its tendrils across the white bandage which contrasted the dark bruised color of Dave's skin with surprise. 

"Let's get him to the OR!" He moved hurriedly as he pulled in the awaiting gurney. 

"What?" John's perplexed gaze followed Luka's movements. 

"Someone pulled that damn piece of glass outta' him and nicked an artery!"

"Wha…?" John looked down as he helped Dave onto the gurney., noticing the blood for the first time. "Shit! Abby asked and I said it was okay!" 

The morphine had taken its effect and combined with the growing sick feeling of dread inside him served to lull Dave into a state of trusting and dejected compliance.

The two young doctors clad in white lab coats rushed to the elevator.

"I thought you had a surgery internship!" 

"Yeah, for a year."

"Didn't you learn anything?!" Luka was trying to control his anger just as John was the sudden cold fear that gripped him. 

"You let a nurse do it! Why didn't you?" 

"I…" John was trying to remember his reasoning at the time. 

They entered the elevator and punched in the level of the OR. 

"It was after you left, I thought it was fine!" The two men were shouting now. As the doors slid open the two doctors rushed down the hallway, almost hitting Dr. Romano. 

"Well, if it isn't the impatient ER boys!" 

"Romano, we need you!" Luka tried to keep the panic from his voice. The short bald man was trying to get a look at the patient from his vantage point behind the other two. Curious, and always eager for a chance to enforce himself he jogged along behind the two younger doctors. 

John turned his soft brown eyes to Romano, his face serious. "It's Malucci." 

Romano drew in his breath before giving out orders to clear the nearest OR. 

Nurses hurriedly hooked up monitors as Romano hastily cut off the bandages. "Oh shit! What the hell happened?" He looked up to the nearest nurse. "We've got a bleeder here!"

Author's note:

Sorry guys! There'll be more soon! I leave for South Dakota from California Sat. morning but will be back Wed. night! I'll post as fast as possible! Thanks for all of the support you've all been giving me! It means so much!


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I'm finally back with part 7

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I'm finally back with part 7! I'm so terribly sorry it's taken so long! Please forgive me. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so very much for all of the support everyone has shown me. J 

"John! There you are!" Abby jogged after the tired doctor. "I've been looking all over for you!" 

"Hey," John rubbed his eyes. 

"What's the matter?" 

"We had to take Dave up to the OR." 

"Why? What happened?" Her brown eyes were worried. 

"He had some internal bleeding from that glass you pulled out of him."

Abby put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God, is he going to be okay?' 

John shrugged, his expression as soft as he could muster. Abby turned away, her hand on her forehead. "I can't believe this. This is all my fault." 

"No, no…" John let out a heavy sigh. "I told you it was okay… It's my fault…"

"You can't blame people for things like this." John nodded his agreement. "It's just… how long was he in surgery?"

"He was out a half hour ago but is still unconscious. Didn't have to tube him or anything, but these next couple of hours are critical." 

Abby nodded distantly, her gaze and mind somewhere else. After a moment, she shifted her gaze back to John. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm okay." 

"Well, you know I'm always here for you if you need someone to talk to." 

John nodded and smiled weakly as Abby squeezed his arm and walked away.

Kerry had been looking over a patient's chart when her mind began to wander over the events of the day. It almost seemed like too much to be real. Her gaze had shifted aimlessly to focus on nothing as a police officer came up behind her. 

"Are you Dr. Weaver?" The police officer in his mid-thirties asked hesitantly. His dark mustache complemented the incredible smooth appearance of his black skin. 

Kerry turned around, shifting her glasses to her nose. "Yes, how my I help you?" The policeman smiled warmly, his eyes expressing sympathy. "I', Officer Brown," his smooth voice cut through the air like a warm knife through butter. 

Kerry looked at him for a moment, perplexed, before shaking her head as she remembered his name. "Oh yes! God, I- I', sorry, I've just been-" 

"That's understandable, one of your friends is injured." 

Kerry smiled, reflecting his understanding. "Dr. Malucci is unconscious right now, but I'll be sure to inform you once he wakes up." 

"I'd be much obliged," Officer Brown smiled and left as Kerry turned back to her work. 

"That the cop?" Randi was still chewing gum. 

"Yes," Kerry didn't look up. 

"What does he want? They think Malucci started the fight or somethin'?" She observer Kerry's indifferent stance and decided to use provocation as a means of getting gossip out of her. "I'll bet he did." 

"No, actually, the man who attacked him was his father and was brought in and called a few hours ago," Kerry responded swiftly, her annoyance evident as she felt the need to defend Dave against any bad rumors Randi could start about him. 

"Whoa, wait, his real father?" Randi was trying to get over her shock and pry for more before Kerry hobbled out of earshot. 

"I really couldn't tell you and honestly I don't think it's any of your business!" Kerry snapped and rounded the corner, colliding with Gabe Lawrence in doing so. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir, I didn't see-" she looked up to see the surprised face of her mentor. "Gabe!" she laughed in surprise. 

"Hello to you, too," Dr. Lawrence chuckled. 

"Well, how are you?" 

"Eh… I do okay." 

"I'm glad," Kerry smiled a smile that spoke pure friendship. 

"Eh, come 'ere!" Gabe pulled her into a much-needed hug. 

"Gabe," Kerry pulled away, her voice serious as she felt she needed to inform him of what had happened. "There's been an incident here. One of our junior residents has been injured."

"Are they all right?"

"I don' know, but apparently he was in the supply room when someone attacked him." 

"Well, what do you mean attacked? Who was it?" 

"It was Dr. Malucci… he was beat up pretty bad." 

"Malucci…" Gabe's mind wandered, trying to match a face to the name he remembered. "Oh no," his face fell as recognition crossed it. 

"He's in the ICU recovering from surgery. Apparently there was some internal bleeding and he lost a lot of blood." 

Gabe sighed, looking down as he let his shoulders sag. "Have you been up to see him yet?"

Kerry shook her head. "No, not yet." She paused for a moment, regarding the man who was practically her surrogate father. "Would you like to come with me?" 

Gabe nodded his head. "Yeah, I'd like that." Kerry gave him a sad smile and led the way to the elevator.

Abby sat in the room with Dave, feeling guilty and willing her unconscious companion to wake up. She nervously bit her fingernails as she stared at the rise and fall of Dave's chest, yet didn't focus on anything. Her thoughts bringing her back to the present she glanced at the clock. It was already early evening and as she shifted her weight she seemed to notice the pressure in her bladder for the first time. She'd been keeping her vigilance over Dave for nearly three hours now and figured that five minutes away for a trip to the bathroom and to get some coffee wouldn't make much difference. As she opened the door to leave she noticed Kerry and an elderly man coming towards her. 

"Hi," she spoke quietly. 

"Abby, this is Dr. Gabe Lawrence. Gabe, this is Abby Lockheart." 

Abby smiled and Gabe nodded warmly. 

"How is he?" Kerry's face was laced with compassion. 

"He's not awake yet. I'm just gonna' go…" she gestured down the hall. 

"Oh, yes," Kerry stepped out of her way. 

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Abby called over her shoulder. 

Kerry and Gabe stepped into the quiet room. The steady beep of the heart monitor was both reassuring and frightening for at any minute a beep might be prolonged, indicating heart failure. 

Gabe breathed out heavily and Kerry's expression softened when she saw the black eye and cuts on her friends face. It was hard to see anyone like that. She lifted the light sheet to peek at Dave's chest, hoping for reassurance, but was instead met with the white linen enhancing the now dark bruised skin. "Oh God," she sighed as she placed the sheet over his peaceful form once more. 

"Poor kid." Gabe kept his hands in his pockets. 

"How could this happen?" Gabe put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it for reassurance. "What human beings are capable of is sometimes frightening." Kerry was silent for a moment. "Before we found him an MVA was brought in. Dr. Greene was working on him at the same time Carter found Malucci. Dave saw him and was able to identify him as the mad who attacked him. He also said that it was his father. He was pronounced before Dave went into surgery."

"Geeze…" 

After a momentary pause Kerry's tone of voice changed. "It's funny. You can think you know someone, work with them every day, yet you really don't know them. I mean, who would of thought…" she gestured with a flat hand toward Dave. 

'Well," Gabe sighed. "People aren't always easy to figure out. I mean, you have to be insightful and sometimes look at things from a different angle." Kerry remained silent, thinking of a response to defend her stance. 

"I worked with him, too, for a time. I remember him as a cocky kid- the kind that makes jokes and somehow always manages to get in trouble. Yet no one's really like that. Underneath there's always a reason for certain behavioral patterns. I could tell by watching him and how he responded to encouragement that he relied on his trademark, indifference, if you will, as a sort of defense mechanism." 

"Humph," Kerry pondered this for a moment, realizing that Gabe never meant to convict her of being blind to faults in others. " I never thought about it that way before." 

"I mean, it's obvious now that he suffered from an abusive father, however a mystery the extent may be. Who would want to remember that? It's just important to remember that everyone has a deeper side to their character, although it may not always be east to see."

"That is so true," Kerry though out loud, thinking of herself. "Thank you for that insight, Gabe, it was very though provoking." 

Gabe chuckled. "Well, I try." Kerry laughed with him, a nice break from the seriousness that had befallen the two. She took a step forward to Dave's side. 

"Come on, Dave," she squeezed his wrist. "We need you to wake up now. Who else am I going to yell at?" she tried to laugh yet heard her voice crack and felt tears forming in her eyes. After a moment of gazing at her silent friend who wore an oxygen mask to aid breathing she pulled away with a loud sniff. 

"It's okay," Gabe enfolded her in her arms as she let out a few quiet sobs. He rubbed her back comfortingly. After a few moments Kerry pulled away and began to wipe at the tears behind her glasses. "I'm sorry…" 

"No, don't be," Gabe kept his hand on her arm. 

"It's just… how could this happen?" she asked the question again, the memory of Lucy's death making the situation seem all the more desperate and painfully familiar. 

"Good evening here, folks," came the sarcastically cheerful greeting of Dr. Romano as he strut in, surprising the other two doctors. "How's the patient doing?" He didn't wait for an answer as he checked the readout on the heart monitor and checked the IV.

"The surgery went well, I presume?" Kerry turned her attention to the enthusiastic short man.

"Extremely," Romano had a habit of speaking in a way that mirrored yelling. 

"Good." 

"Well, he's a tough bastard. A fighter. But he should be waking up about now…" Robert glanced at his watch. " In fact a few hours ago." He rested his elbows on the side of the bed and grabbed Dave's hand in an unusual show of affection. "Come on buddy…" he whispered as he watched the heart monitor. 

Kerry smiled inside. She loved it when Robert showed that he wasn't all monster. As suddenly as he had entered the room Romano sprung up and strolled towards the door. "We're lucky," he locked eyes sympathetically with Kerry, "we almost lost another one."

"Abby?" Luka cautiously stepped into the room of the ICU that held Dave. 

"Mmmmmmmm…" Abby say up, the magazine she was looking at falling from her chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered as he walked toward her. 

"Ugh," Abby rubber her eyes "No, it's okay, I'm just, uh, what time is it?" 

"Ten thirty." 

"Oh." 

"Are you coming home tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know. I – I think I better stay here." 

"Abby," Luka spoke commandingly. "It's not you fault. It would have happened anyway." 

Abby sighed. "I know… It's just I feel I should be here with him." 

Luka slowly nodded, fully understanding how it felt to be responsible for injuring someone. He tried to pull his thoughts away from the night he had killed a man who tried to mug him and Abby. 

"All right. Let me know when you get home." He bent down and kissed her before leaving. 

After he left Abby looked at the clock again, then back at Dave, disheartened that he still had not woken up, and tried to shake off her feeling of guilt. 


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Dave saw when he opened his unfocused eyes was bright whiteness. After a few blinks Dave realized that he was looking at the ceiling. He heard the constant beep of a heart monitor, and a doctor being paged over intercom. Something was on his face, making his airways painfully dry and he ached just about everywhere. 

He slowly turned his head to the left, watching the room spin out of focus and feeling blood rush up into his head as he did so. When the word settled once more he recognized the form of Abby, sitting peacefully with her head turned to the side, looking out the window. The soft morning light brightened her contemplative features. 

Sighing, she removed her fist from under her chin and turned back towards Dave, suddenly smiling as she saw him awake and looking at her. 

"Hey, look who decided to finally wake up." 

Dave smiled but didn't yet have the command of his body to speak. 

Abby understood this and instead of letting silence linger looked about the room and started explaining what Dave probably didn't' remember. 

"John found you in the supply room and we treated you in the ER. I pulled a piece of glass out of your stomach that apparently nicked and artery. You had to go into surgery. We're in the ICU… and I've been waiting for you to wake up." She smiled again, a weight lifted off her shoulders that showed through the sparkle in her brown eyes. 

Dave moved his hand up to his oxygen mask and as Abby noticed what he was trying to do pulled it off for him. "Must get kind of annoying," she wrinkled her nose playfully. 

Dave smiled, then licked his lips, trying to speak. Abby heard a husky voice whisper "thank you." 

She smiled again and ruffled his hair, careful of the butterfly bandage above his left temple. Dave's smile slowly faded as he drifted off to sleep, not yet fully ready for the sights and sounds of the real world. 

When Dave next awoke it was to the sounds of softly conversing voices. He turned his head to see who they belonged to and drew attention to himself. 

"Hey Dave," Mark's goofy face scrunched up in a smile. Dave smiled back. Abby and Kerry were there also. "You had a long nap," Abby smiled maternally. "It's ten-o-clock; you've been sleeping for four hours." 

"How are you feeling?" Kerry leaned casually on her crutch. 

Dave cleared his throat and pulled off the oxygen mask that pressed against his face. He could have sworn he'd pulled it off earlier. 

"Okay I guess… kindda' sick." 

Mark nodded his head. "Well, I don't know if you remember but you had surgery. That's probably left over from the anesthesia." 

Dave slowly nodded and felt something soft and fuzzy touch his temple. He reached up and pulled down the soft form of a squishy teddy bear. 

Abby smiled. "Jing-Mei left that for you." 

"Dave looked up in interest at the remark and laughed inside as he looked at the teddy bear with a new eye. 

"If you'll excuse me, I have to make a call," Kerry stepped out of the room. 

"Do you remember waking up earlier?" Abby casually rested her hands on the small of her back. 

"Yeah…" Dave looked over. "You were sitting by the window." Abby smiled as she nodded. 

"Hey," Mark lightly punched his shoulder playfully as he had moved to the other side of the bed. "Don't do that again. You scared me. If my brain tumor comes back I'm blaming you," Mark chuckled and Dave felt the tingle of laughter for the first time since he'd awoken.

"So…" Abby rested her elbows on her knees as she sat down. "You really think it was your dad who jumped you?" 

Dave looked at her a few seconds, his brow furrowed. "Yeah," he sighed. 

Sticking his hands in his pockets and not knowing what else to say Mark opted for "What a jerk." He didn't know if it would make Dave feel better to tell him that he had tried to save his father's life, or something like 'what goes around comes around.' 

Dave looked at the teddy beat for a moment, fingering its paws.

Kerry re-entered the small room and approached Dave's bedside. "Dave, there's a police officer who'd like to speak with you about what happened." Dave was still watching Kerry as Officer Brown opened the door and stepped in. He smiled at the small crowd as they stepped aside. 

"Seeya Dave," Mark lifted a hand as he walked out with Abby and Kerry. 

"Dr. Malucci," the man extended his hand, his aura calm. "I'm Officer Brown. It's a pleasure." Dave shook his hand. "I'm just gonna ask you some questions about what happened. I understand that you may not remember everything but try to give me as complete a picture as possible." Dave nodded. "All right, then," Officer Brown pulled out a pen and pad. "So… where were you when you were attacked?" 

"I was in the supply room, downstairs." 

"Umm hmm, and, what were you doing there?" 

"We ran out of Amoxacillin up in the ER and the nurses were too busy to remember my request, I guess." 

Officer Brown nodded, scribbling on his pad. "And this was for a patient?" 

"Yep. Then the lights went out. Someone… or something… hit me in the head…" his gaze was distant, searching the past. 

"Most likely the glass bottle we had to clean up." 

"Huh- yeah, probably. The rest was just… fear. I panicked and hardly fought back. He just kept hitting me. I couldn't get up. Couldn't get away…" 

"He?" 

"It was my dad." 

Officer Brown nodded, still writing furiously. "Dr. Weaver informed me. How did you know it was your father?" 

"I knew his voice… he told me he wanted to kill me… it seems like he always has."

After a few moments of quiet scribbling Officer Crown looked up. "Why would he want to kill you, Dave?" 

Dave sighed. He was tired of being awake and being forced to relive his pain. "He, um… he joined this weird group when I was a kid. Some Neo-Nazi thing. My mother was half American Indian. After she died he used to get drunk and say terrible things about her. About me." 

"These were racist comments? Because you're also part American Indian?" 

"Yeah. He'd go on forever about how he was a discredit to the white race for marrying a red-skin and how he needed to fix his mistakes." 

"White supremacist's, gotta' love 'em," Brown chuckled, causing Dave to crack a smile that tugged on his healing split lip. Officer Brown cleared his throat. "In your father's car- which was pretty totaled- we found a downed bottle of liquor, some personal items, a crowbar…" 

Dave gingerly touched his side. "Yeah, I felt that." 

Brown's eyes turned kind. "I'm sorry for what you've been through. We've sent your father's personal effects to your apartment. I've taken the liberty of writing down your cell phone number in case we need to get in touch again." 

"Okay." 

"As long as everything you've told me checks out with your volunteered alibi's you should be fine. I truly hope your recovery is swift and you have my deepest condolences. Thank you for your time." 

Dave smiled weakly and inclined his head as Officer Brown left. "No problem." 

As soon as the door closed he sighed and draped an arm over his eyes. He knew that how he was feeling wasn't normal. 'Damn. I hate being the patient. Medicine. Nothing like it to make you feel like shit.' 

"Hey," came a quiet voice and Dave moved his arm to look at Abby. 

"Hey." 

"You look better." 

"Humph. Then why do I still feel like I got run over by a backhoe?" 

A smile tugged at her lips. "You just need your sleep," she hoped she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "I'm gonna go home now. Do you need anything?" 

"Yeah," he cleared his throat. "Could you tell Carter that I want to see him?" 

"Of course," she held her coat in the crook of her elbow. "You get better- I'll see you later." She kissed her index and middle fingers and touched them to his lips before leaving in search of Carter and her comfortable bed. 


	9. Chapter 9

"You wanted to see me, Dave

"You wanted to see me, Dave?" Carter tried to look cheerful. Damn, he hated seeing his friend like this. 

"Yeah," Dave rubbed his eyes. "I wanted to thank you for saving my life." 

"Luka helped." John smiled, expecting Dave to respond comically to his characteristic modesty. 

"John?" Dave's voice was serious and John's smile faded to a frown. "Can I ask you a favor?' 

"Sure," he sat down and crossed his ankles.

"Can you feed my dog for me?" 

John smiled. "Of course." 

Dave swallowed, clearly not comfortable. "His name's Comanche and he's just a puppy. I've never been away from him for as long as I'm going to be. The food's under the sink-" he coughed. 

"Do you need some water?" John grabbed the glass. 

"No, I'm okay." 

John slowly set the glass back down suddenly wanting desperately to leave. It was too much to feel this pain again- not so soon. 

"Could you ask the little girl in 16A to take him out for walks? Her name is Amanda." 

John nodded. "You have a key? I know where your apartment is, I just don't want to have to climb in the fire escape…" 

"I dunno… I had one… I dunno where you guys put my stuff but there's a key on my keychain-" 

"Okay, don't sweat it. I've got the rest."

"Are you sure?" 

"Don't worry about it, just get some rest." 

Dave slowly nodded. "Okay. Thanks Carter, I owe you one." 

"You bet you do," John pointed at him playfully as he strode toward the door. 

"Hey, and tell Luka thanks for me."

"Of course. Pleasant dreams." He shut the door. 

Dave sank his head into the pillow, wishing it were all over. 

Abby quietly slipped into Dave's room, tiptoeing over to the pair of key's she'd left behind. She paused on her way out, noticing Dave's peacefully sleeping form. She approached him and noticed that his breathing mask was still beside his head rather than doing its job. She gently slipped it into place and slipped out.

"You must fight!" 

"No! I will not fight against that!" he pointed into the distance. 

"Then you are a disgrace to your people!" 

"I will not fight a battle I cannot win! Our people will be dead!" 

"You are a disgrace to your fathers!" 

"As you will be to yours if you fight today." 

"I curse the day we became blood brothers!" He spat on the ground. "You are a coward!" 

"I will not fight the White Eye. Not like this. We must know our enemy before we engage in battle!" 

"I know my enemy!" He paused. "Have you forgotten who killed my father?!" 

"You speak with your heart, not your head!"

"At least I know what is in my own heart!" He stalked off into shrouded forever.

Dave awoke, troubled and upset until he opened his eyes and sighed. Another stupid dream. His nose hurt again and he pulled off his breathing mask. This time he was getting fed up with it and it's inexplicable re-appearances. This time he knew he'd taken it off before.

"Damn key," John muttered, trying to open the door to Dave's apartment. He triple checked to make sure he had the right one. 

"You have to juggle it." John turned at the pleasant voice from behind. 

"The locks are old, like the building. May I?" John handed her the key and watched as she expertly unlocked the door, then extended her hand. "Esperanza Dominguez." 

"John Carter," he shook her hand. "I'm a friend of Dave's… I'm supposed to feed his dog for him."

She nodded. "He hasn't been home in a while. My little girl went to visit yesterday and said that no one was there. He's always home Monday nights so she can visit…" John had no idea that Dave hung out with kids when he got the choice. "… Is everything all right?" 

"Umm… not really. Are you from apartment 16A?" 

"Yes- my husband, daughter and I." 

"Dave was attacked at work the other day-" 

"Attacked?" Mrs. Dominguez was suddenly angry. "By who? Why?" 

"Umm… we're not sure, but he's gonna need hospitalization for a few days." John thought it was best to keep details to a minimum. 

"Dios mio…" Esperanza mouthed as she distressfully rubbed her temples. "Is he going to be okay?" 

"He should be… in time. He just needs his rest right now." 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" 

"I think so. Is your little girl's name Amanda?" 

"Yes."

"Dave wanted to know if she could walk his dog for him."

"Of course. We'll keep him at our place. Amanda owns his sister," she strode into the apartment. "Comanche! Here boy!" Nothing. She turned back to John. "He's probably sleeping somewhere. If he's anything like his sister, he'll sleep through a freight train crashing next to him." 

John waited in the doorway as Esperanza went into another room. "There you are. Little dog," she came back into the room with a squirming fluff ball.

"Hey Comanche," John grinned as he ruffled the puppy's fur. Comanche turned his head to catch John's hand in his mouth and started to massage it with his needle teeth. "Hey!" 

Esperanza laughed. "Don't worry, he won't really bite. He's just being a puppy." 

"John wiped his hand on his shirt. "Yuck. Puppy slime." 


	10. Chapter 10

Dave sat on the couch in the lounge, resting for a moment before he resumed packing

Dave sat on the couch in the lounge, resting for a moment before he resumed packing. He hated being as weak as he now was, recovering from major surgery and an attack. He put a hand to his forehead as he closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation. He'd get through this. He knew he would. He had before. He just needed a quick breather right now. 

Jing-Mei walked in, laughing as she called over her shoulder to John playfully. She stopped when she saw Dave and smiled. "Hey Dave, how ya' feeling?"

He groaned and made a so-so gesture with his hand. 

She smiled sadly. "It will get better. But it must be frustrating."

He leaned forward and grabbed some more of his stuff that he'd put on the table and began to stuff it into his backpack.

"Want me to help?" 

"No, it's all right, I got it." 

"Are you sure?" 

Dave stopped and looked up at her. "I'm fine. Honestly, I'm flattered that you suddenly care, but I'm fine." 

His remark hadn't meant to harm her in any way, yet she felt her heart sink. He was right. He nearly always was, no matter how crude the matter be. When she averted her eyes to her coffee cup without saying anything he caught wind of her mood. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No," she looked up. "You're right." She sat down next to him and he pushed himself to the far side of the couch to make plenty of room for her. She pretended to not notice his physical distancing of himself from her and allowed her slight form to take up a small portion of the cushion on the opposite end from him. He'd been very quiet lately- everyone had noticed that. She wasn't comfortable to be around him anymore. He didn't laugh, didn't make jokes, and wouldn't even give her that beautiful smile of his. He wouldn't give it to anyone. Not now.

"I've been rude to you in the past… and I apologize." 

He slowly began to pack again, letting silence linger. "Why? I've never apologized for being rude, and I'm rude to everyone." 

"That's not true. Sure, you can be a bit crude, but now that I think about the things you've said to me that angered me at the time… you're heart was always in the right place." She looked at his face attentively, desperately trying to gauge his reaction to her heartfelt comments. 

He froze for a moment. He didn't know what to do. How does one take a compliment? It was hard enough for people who deal with it on a more normal basis, yet he had hardly had a compliment directed at him in his life. He looked over at her and into her face for a moment, and she caught a glimpse of his emotions, then feeling shy he looked away and began to slowly pack again. She felt her heart go out to him as she noticed his uneasy response. He had no idea what to say. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly as she rose, but felt him inadvertently shrink away. She suddenly pulled her hand back, pretending to have control of her composure as she walked out. He had just coiled away from her and her efforts of friendship. She knew he didn't owe her anything, but was still shocked that she had let herself become this distanced from one she considered a friend. Yet she had no right to call him a friend for she now realized that she hardly knew him at all. 

Dave sat still again, thinking about what had just happened and feeling hideously embarrassed that he had cringed under her friendly touch. But he couldn't help it. He packed the rest of his stuff then sat in silence once more, fully used to it after the long week as a patient. The dim lights made him comfortable and he felt his mind drifting aimlessly as he leaned back into the soft couch, closing his eyes for just a moment. Damn, he was frustrated. The things he took for granted before all this happened…

He was standing before him, his long, dark hair blowing around his face, the yellow plains stretching out into the vastness of the sky behind him. He held a spear in one hand, and reached down toward Dave with the other. As the man leaned down Dave could see the smudged war paint and sweat glistening on his face. Dave was sitting on the ground and didn't know if he should take the man's hand… 

People talking woke him as Abby and Dr. Green walked in, talking about an X-ray order. When they noticed who they'd awoken they fell quiet and their faces apologetic. 

"Sorry, Dr. Malucci." 

Dave rubbed his eyes and looked at Dr. Green who had managed to visibly upset Abby. 

"No… it's okay…" his voice was quiet and he grabbed his backpack and pulled it onto his lap, zipping it shut. 

"So how ya' feelin'?" Mark tried to sound chipper. 

Why did everyone ask him that? He didn't feel much better than he did the last time Mark had asked. The cut on his temple was healing as was his split lip, but the black and blue of his right eye remained the same, as it would for a while. "Okay, I guess," he said, hoping it was the answer Mark had wanted to hear and would give him an excuse to leave. It worked. 

"Good. Give it time. Each day you'll feel a little better, trust me. Remember what I told you? It's the memories that are the worst… if you ever want to talk Elizabeth and I would be more than happy to have you…" 

At that Dave smirked. He couldn't help it. Sure, Elizabeth wanted HIM to come visit… right…. Mark immediately caught the meaning of his reaction and, angered, came to the defense of the love of his life. "She likes you, Dave, a whole lot more than some of the other people around here, myself included." He roughly set down his coffee cup and swung out the door. 

Caught off guard by his response but not really caring Dave impartially watched him go. He all ready knew what everyone thought of him, he could see it in their faces, and now it drove him crazy to see people that he knew didn't like him forcing a smile for him purely out of sympathy. That was something he had always hated. 

"He's, a, he's been in a bad mood all morning," Abby smiled empathetically. 

"Don't look so surprised," Dave shook his head. 

"I know, he's a total ass sometimes. But I hear he's nice once you, ah, get to know him or something…" She sat down next to him, and he didn't mind. He was used to Abby's company- she had spent the most time with him up in the ICU than anyone. She had become a source of his strength and he'd never be able to thank her enough for her presence in his life.

He furrowed his brow, suddenly wanting to tell her how he felt. "Abby…" 

She looked at him expectantly, trust written in her eyes. "Hum?"

"Abby… you've been so special to me… you've been my angel." 

She was frozen in her seat, not knowing what to do. "Well, I wouldn't go that far…" she joked, watching satisfactorily as he cracked the smallest of smiles. She felt so much compassion for him; maybe it was because he reminded her of herself. "Come here," she put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him into her chest in the best comforting hug she could muster. He was used to her presence, and it felt natural to relax into her strength as he now lay on the couch, his head on her lap. Over the past week the two had come unbelievably close in a completely platonic way. They seemed to connect so well, and Abby seemed to know how to deal with everything. She stroked his hair, and noticed the pain written on his face. Not very much physical pain, but emotional pain. Something that codeine couldn't help relieve. He wasn't looking at her, but drawn inwards. She began to think of all the times she had needed someone like he did, yet no one was there. Maybe that was why she so wanted to help him. She didn't want anyone else to have to deal with what she had to and would help in anyway she could. Trying to shake off her dismal thoughts she asked him a question. "Dave? Have you ever been in love? I mean, really in love?" 

He still kept his pensive stance. "I don't know… have you?" 

"I don't know either… sometimes when I'm with Luka I love him so much I can't bear to be apart from him. Yet other times I don't want him to touch me, and get mad when he says nice things to me. I don't know why…" 

"Maybe that is true love."

"Humph. Maybe… I wouldn't know… I know that I love him… but just…. I can't trust myself sometimes." 

"I know. People are stupid." 

"Yah. People are stupid. How about you?" 

He though for a minute while she continued to stroke his hair. 

"One time there was this girl…" he began, breaking the easy silence. "She lives in South Dakota. I used to always visit my grandparents there every summer." 

"Are your grandparents farmers?" 

"No. They live on a Lakota reservation." 

She nodded her head, surprised, even though Dave couldn't see her face. 

"She lived there, too. A few blocks away. Her name was Sandra. Sandra Deer Bird. We used to play together… she was my best friend in the world. Then we got older and she was so beautiful… yet the same intelligent, funny, sweet person. I loved her so much. That was my first kiss… when I was thirteen, we were celebrating the fourth of July, and as we watched the fireworks on TV in her trailer she kissed me on the cheek. I was too shocked to do anything, but by the next morning I was prepared to ask her to marry me." They both laughed softly. "Then… I didn't come back until I was sixteen…. I couldn't wait to see her… I knocked on the door to her trailer and she answered. I was still stuttering out my greeting when some guy came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. She couldn't tell who I was through the screen and a few inches taller… she turned to her boyfriend and asked him something, and I left. She knew it was me… after I'd walked away… I heard her call out my name but I wasn't going back. I didn't want to see her. I hated her. But not for long at all……. That's the worst pain I've ever felt… seeing that her with that other guy…." 

"Did you ever find out who he was?" 

"No. I was only there for a few days that trip and spent the rest of my time with my grandparents. I tried to forget." 

"Have you ever gone back or called her?" 

"Of course not….. I still have trouble looking at pictures of us." 

Abby laughed, "That's so sweet." 

"Here," he sat up and pulled a wrinkled photograph from his wallet. She unfolded it and saw two brown-eyed ten year-olds with huge smiles. They were both so cute and innocent. They each had a toy dinosaur in their hands and more could be seen in the sandy background. They both showed such vivacity, and as she folded the photo back up and looked at the man before her she could only see a shadow of that beautiful child. He now seemed so cloaked in darkness compared to that picture, so literally beaten. She handed it back. He stuffed it back into his wallet and she could tell he wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Even she was shocked… Dave still loved this girl… after all these years. It almost brought tears to her eyes. "So what are you going to do now?" 

"Weaver's demanded I take a month off… I'm not gonna' argue… but I think I'm gonna' go back." 

"Where?"

"To the only place I have happy memories of… to my grandparents."

Abby smiled. "You'll have to call me all the time." 

"I will," he barely smiled, but it was all that she could hope for. He had become so reserved since his attack, and everyone noticed it. She hugged him again as now they were both standing. 

"I gotta' get back to work." 

Dave let his backpack slide on carefully over his black leather jacket. 

She knew she didn't have to wait for a response, however as she walked out the door she heard a small 'seeya.' 


	11. Chapter 11

The snow fell on intermittent puffs of air, a strange sight amongst the now vivacious greens of the trees that lined the street and the cemetery

The snow fell on intermittent puffs of air, a strange sight amongst the now vivacious greens of the trees that lined the street and the cemetery. Dave didn't mind the cold, the stimulation of the senses. In fact, he welcomed it, satisfied that the world no longer boasted its gaiety in his face.

The priest finished his final words… "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen." He made a cross across his chest with his rosary beads. The elder man didn't look up at the young man at the burial site, but left the fresh grave to sit in the cold. 

A slight breeze lightly tugged on Dave's short, combed hair, blowing the smell of the coming rain to follow the snow across the graveyard. He had no feeling on the tip of his nose or his fingers, but he didn't care. He stared at the teal coffin sitting suspended on straps above the hole which it was to be lowered into. 

Mark kept his hands in his pockets as he approached, a bundled up Elizabeth at his side. It was such a dry, crisp cold that all he wanted to do was go back inside, but he and his wife had come to give much needed strength to their friend. Elizabeth held Ellla close to her, bundled up as they both were. 

The wind picked up slightly and blew her hair as she and her husband searched for Dave. It wasn't hard to find him. He was shrouded in black, and despite the circumstances looked nice dressed up, even with his black eye, butterfly bandaged temple, and the dark stain on his lower lip where it was still healing. 

Dave bent down and grabbed a small handful of the dark earth piled on the ground. He tossed it on top of the coffin and wiped his hand off on his pants. He looked up at the ruffle of clothing to see a solemn couple approaching. 

"Hey," the tip of Mark's nose was red as were his cheeks. 

"Hey." Dave continued to look down at the coffin, feeling emptiness inside of him. 

"I, um… I'm sorry about what I said the other day…"

Dave thought of a response for a moment but when he looked up he saw an Elizabeth who was more different than she had ever been to him before. She looked at his hurting face with compassion in her eyes as Mark took the bundle that was Ella into his arms. Before Dave could even greet her she pulled him into a hug with all of her warmth. He wasn't reluctant to hug her back and closed his eyes as he let the comfort of another human being enter his soul. Whether it was her shift in maternal hormones or the sudden glimpse into his real person that made her feel such compassion she did not know, but she felt it all the same and was willing to express it to him, even if he was once someone she despised. She felt so foolish sometimes. Just when you think you know something about anything the world has a way of turning you on your head. 

They pulled away from each other and Dave had tear trails on both cheeks. He didn't care if he cried. He deserved to cry. It was his father's funeral. No matter how much he tried to hate the man his frustration would always get the best of him and all he could do was loose himself in sorrow. He always felt inferior for letting himself show his emotions, but now didn't have the strength to hold them back. All he could do was live. 

Elizabeth smiled sadly and wiped a tear off his cheek with her thumb. "How are you doing?" She hadn't seen him since before he was attacked and now saw a changed man who looked back at her. 

He pulled in a shaky breath that exhaled in a white stream. "I'm doin' okay…" his voice was shaky and he sniffed as he turned back to the grave. 

"Hey," Mark grabbed his arm with his free hand. "I mean it. What I said the other day about if you need to talk. I'm always there for you." 

Dave nodded solemnly and put his hands in his pockets once more. 

"Come on, let's get something warm to eat," Elizabeth had taken Ella again and Mark tried to get his attention by pulling on his sleeve once more as he spoke. 

"No it's okay… I just wanna' go home right now." 

"Well c'mon then, I'm driving."

"I can get a cab-" 

"Dave, I'm taking you, no buts about it."

Dave chuckled, giving in. "Okay, okay, if it's not out of your way…" he turned to follow the couple to their car. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small group of men approaching. They slowed and stopped when they saw him, as did he. The man closest stared him in the face and flicked the ashes off the end on his cigarette as he tilted his head back slightly, exhaling smoke. Dave glanced back at the grave then to the men again who offered small, sinister smiles that were obviously meant to intimidate him. He merely locked eyes with the leader, watching the man's smile slowly fade into a scowl as he saw the strength, honor, determination and calling for vengeance in the younger man's eyes. He gave Dave an equally menacing look. 

Mark stepped up beside him. Looking at the men. He could sense something happening between that man and Dave and didn't like it. "Hey- we going or not?"

Dave took a moment to tear his eyes away from the older white man obviously in charge of the small group behind him. "Yeah, sure," his voice was quiet and husky as he turned away and followed Mark to the car, leaving the white supremacists to grieve one of their own alone. 


	12. Chapter 12

Dave stepped out of the plane, happy to be back on earth's soil after flying

Dave stepped out of the plane, happy to be back on earth's soil after flying. His stomach was still very upset with him for the altitude changes, but he'd all ready thrown up all that he could and as he now stood in the shocking heat and humidity felt he miserable, weak as he was all ready. 

His heart all but leapt from his body as he heard a tremendous roar from nearby. He looked to his right to see a U.S. fighter jet on a nearby runway preparing to take off. He smiled as he watched it speed down the runway then climb into the sky with more noise than he ever thought possible. Yep, that was Sioux Falls all right, ARMY Reserves and all. "Good luck, buddy," he whispered to the pilot. Most everyone else seemed to be returning to their humble state from a spring visit elsewhere and paid little attention to the fighter jets. He noticed the people in his vicinity flowing into the airport buildings and reluctantly decided to join them, being a fellow human pack animal. 

He sat down on a small bench and tried to convince himself of the beauty of the potted plants as his stomach began to turn somersaults once more. He just needed something to focus on…

There was a mechanical grind as luggage began to appear on a large conveyor belt that snaked in from nowhere. He spotted his suitcase and duffel bag and snatched them up as he glared at the black strips of rubber hanging over the exit of the belt. Ever since he was a child he'd been afraid that his possessions would be sucked into such a hole never to be seen again. 

The room was brightly lit and the small groups of people moved out quickly, leaving Dave alone with his luggage. His grandmother had been so happy when he'd called and asked to visit. She had insisted upon meeting him at the airport so that he wouldn't have to rent a car. 

He heard the sucking of air as the door behind him was opened and craned his neck, hoping to see the familiar visage of his grandmother. Instead he was met with an elderly, yet surprisingly spry old farmer shrouded in an aged John Deere cap. The man looked around for a moment, spotted a custodian and loudly asked a question before scurrying off to his mysterious destination.

Dave looked back at his hands as he happily realized that his stomach had finally recognized what ground felt like and had decided to calm down. After another minute or two of nearly complete silence the deserted airport began to get to him and he rose making his way for a glass case. 

Inside was a finely woven basket of beautiful design. _Made by a Lakota elder_. To his left he noticed a handcrafted peace pipe, obviously never intended for use. The bright yellows, reds, whites, blues and almost perfect feathers suspended by sinew gave off an aura of perfection that stimulated its fakery. 

He looked back to the baskets as he took a step forward, and to a large photograph of a buffalo herd hanging on the wall. The grass was green with yellow flowers. Next to it was a collage of tourist attractions. He smirked. What a getup this place was… 

Yet that was when he turned back to his left. That was when he saw it, hanging there in its black case. A chill ran up his spine. It was a handmade replica of a shirt worn at the Ghost Dance… the Massacre at Wounded Knee. He ran his eyes over its smooth surface, drinking in every detail. The curled fringes, the changes in color… he looked down to the small placard:

_Replica of a holy shirt worn during the Ghost Dance. Many of the Plains people believed that a Ghost Shirt such as this would protect them from their white enemies. On the morning of December 29th, 1890, a single shot was fired, and in the following volley nearly 300 Sioux men, women and children, most of which unarmed, were killed by U.S. troops and buried in a mass grave. The Ghost Dance was believed to bring the return of the buffalo and the end of white oppression to the Native Americans of the Great Plains. _

My God…all they did was dance… Dave had heard the story many times, but somehow, being older, it had a much stronger emotional impact on him. He let his eyes slide back up to the leather shirt with a black painted eagle as a decoration and symbol of unity with the great Creator. Those poor people… he could feel their terror reaching out to him over the decades…

With his attention focused on tracing the lines of craftsmanship before him he barely registered the figure that leaned against the wall beside him. 

"Hiya handsome." 

Slightly startled, Dave shifted his eyes to the figure before him, but immediately broke out in a grin as he recognized his grandmother. His smile was broad and pure, yet he couldn't think of a witty response. Before he could give the task much effort his grandmother had grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down into a hug. 

"Ooooooh Sweetie…" he never would have guessed that someone of her age and size could squeeze so hard. "Where have you been all these years?!" She pulled away and Dave laughed, not knowing what to say. 

"Let me look at you…" she slightly furrowed her brow as she took his face into her wrinkled hands. "Child… what the hell happened to your face?" she let go. 

Dave looked nervous. "You, uh, you mean the black eye?"

"Course not, seen plenty of those before! I meant how the hell are you still so damn cute?!" 

His shocked expression was exactly what she had been hoping for. She broke into loud laughter and playfully smacked his arm. Before he knew it he was once more in her embrace, wincing slightly as his bruised side was compressed. When she finally pulled away again it was to wipe tears from her eyes. She gave a loud sniff, "Damnit kid, you grew up."

"It was bound to happen some time," Dave chuckled. 

"Well, come on," she grabbed his suitcase out of his hand. "We've got a hell of a long drive and your grandfather's waiting for us back at the rez." 

She stepped out into the heat, her slowly graying dark hair pulled back tightly into two braids, one on either side of her head. She wore what looked like his grandfather's plaid, collared blue shirt over her own off-white tank top. Her jeans and hiking boots accentuated her mobility. He could never get over how spry she seemed to be compared to women her age he'd treated in the ER. 

He pulled his duffel bag strap off his shoulder and began to lift it into the bed of the old Chevy pick-up. 

"What the hell are you doin'? Get in the car, I've got it!"

"Grandma-"

"No arguments, kid."

"I don't want to get in the truck."

"Why the hell not?!" She shoved the duffel bag back next to the cab. He'd never heard her swear so much in his life… maybe it was just because he was an adult now… 

"Because I haven't even asked you how you are yet!" 

She laughed. "So ask!"

Dave grinned. "Alright Grandma. How the hell are you?" His grin immediately fell when he saw the expression on her face. 

"Don't you use that language around me! You know I don't like it!" 

"Grandma! Every other word you just said was 'hell'!" 

She pretended to be angry with her grandson for a few moments more until she couldn't stand for him to believe that she was for another second. She bubbled into laughter again as Dave slowly followed suit, realizing that she'd been playing a joke on him. He'd forgotten what a sense of humor this adorable old woman had.

The amazingly green fields sped past until their beautiful novelty began to fade. 

"So how's grandpa?"

"That old coot? He's fine," she waved off the question. "I want to hear about you! How'd you get that shiner? My God, by, I haven't talked to you in 12 years!" 

"I know… and it hasn't been easy." 

She reached over and momentarily placed a loving hand on his knee as she watched the road. Dave secretly hoped that he'd successfully avoided the question for the time being. When he'd called her earlier he'd just said that he'd missed her. 

"So tell me, what's it like being a doctor?"

Dave sighed. "Oh, you know… the usual."

"Where is it that you work?" 

"Chicago Cook County ER." 

"An ER, huh? I always had you pinned for an author with all those wonderful stories and games you'd dream up… I remember, you and Sandra used to love to play dinosaurs. You still remember Sandra?" his grandmother grinned. 

He chuckled. "How could I forget Sandra?"

His grandmother still smiled. "Yeah, you two were best buddies. Joined at the hip… she's still around, you know." 

"Really? I thought she wanted to travel the world and live in distant nations…" 

"Well… the world sometimes has a way of getting the better of you…" 

"You could say that again…" 

"What about you? Have you followed any of your dreams?" She kept her eyes on the road in the afternoon sunlight. Fields of alfalfa with their first cuts bailed into rolls dotted the horizon on either side with intermittent cow-grazed hills. 

"You mean how I wanted to be a T-Rex when I grew up? Nah… somehow that didn't work out," they both chuckled. "But when I got older I realized that I was happiest when I was helping people and doing the right thing. Answering a question in class… helping someone with a math problem… I was first interested in being a veterinarian. I figured that I'd get to go home everyday with the satisfaction that I'd fixed Scruffy's broken leg and helped Whiskers deliver kittens… but you have to put so many animals to sleep… When I was fourteen I worked at an animal hospital for six weeks. On my first day they gave me euthenized puppies in a garbage bag and told me to put 'em in a dumpster."

She cracked up. "You mean they don't bury them or something?"

"Apparently not…" he couldn't help chuckling himself. 

"So you found that your true heart lay in medicine?"

"I guess… it seems like I kindda' stumbled onto it."

"Well that's good. You found something that you love." 

He sighed. "But I'm not sure how much good I do…"

"You do lots of good… even if you can't see it. But you've traded loosing puppies for loosing people, you know. I can see where that could wear ya' down. In an ER, too… Geeze kid, you're in deep…"

Dave laughed. "Yep, I am. And there's no one there to help me out… so I gotta find my own way."

"You know. Being stuck in a hole like that ain't always easy but it ain't always bad, either."

"Yeah… it isn't bad. I'm an adrenaline junkie… it's all that I can hope for."

She gave another boisterous exclamation. "That's my boy! Always looking on the bright side…" 

'If only that were true…' he thought painfully…

She looked over at him, a distant stance to her. "You remind me of your mother."

Dave laughed nervously. "I do?"

"Mmm hmmm. I see so much of her in you. She'd be proud of you, Dave. Her Little Shining Eyes all grown up…" She bit her lip, choking back tears. "She'd be damn proud, Dave. Damn proud."


	13. Chapter 13

The beat up '69 Chevy pulled to a stop in front of a somewhat shabby house with white plastic siding, kicking up dust that had been resting underneath the wheels. Dave pulled his backpack onto his lap and sighed as he squinted in the harsh sunlight o

The beat up '69 Chevy pulled to a stop in front of a somewhat shabby house with white plastic siding, kicking up the dust that had been resting peacefully underneath the wheels. Dave pulled his backpack onto his lap and sighed as he squinted in the harsh sunlight of dusk. 

"George!" his grandmother yelled out the window to an approaching figure who was shielding his eyes from both the sun and the dust. He climbed out, happy to get a chance to walk. Comanche hopped out with him. 'Why does my butt always hurt so much after I've been sitting for a long time?'

His grandma slammed her door shut and scurried over to the other side of the truck to grab a hold of Dave. Tugging on his sleeve she walked with him over to his grandfather. 

"George, you remember this kid?!" 

Dave smiled as his grandfather shaded his eyes and looked at the man before him. "Can't say that I do..." He looked different. His hair was nearly all gray and pulled back into two braids like his grandmother's. He had more wrinkles that shone in wisdom and his skin was the same color of terra cotta clays. 

"Nice to see you too, grandpa." Dave laughed. 

"My God... if you ain't the spittin' image of me when I was your age!"

His grandmother swatted him. "Like hell he is! You were never that cute! Look at that smile- that's pure Running Deer!" Dave smiled at the reference to his mother's Lakota name. 

His grandfather squinted and leaned forward for a better look. "Well.... I guess it is, isn't it? C'mere you!" He grabbed Dave into a hug. Ah, how he'd missed grandparent hugs. They were one of the best things in the world. 

When they pulled back Dave's grandma piped up again. "Look at you two! I told you he'd be taller than you, George!" 

"Honey," the elderly man turned to his wife, his voice serious. "You're always right." 

She burst out in noisy laughter and swatted him again. "You finally admit it!" It felt good to be in their reassuring company once more. "Well, come on, let's set your stuff inside, I've gotta' start dinner!" She, Dave and his grandpa pulled his stuff out of the back of the truck, Comanche nipping at their heels. His grandma led the way to a guestroom in a compartment near the kitchen. It was actually more of a bed and dresser, since it was in a corner and not fully enclosed on four sides, but it was where Dave had always stayed. 

That night they ate a small meal but stayed at the dinner table much longer talking and telling stories. 

"Tell him the one about how you fooled that fella' you work with." His grandmother had heard most of his stories that he was now telling on the way there and now prompted him to share them with his grandfather. 

Dave chuckled. "All right. I work with this guy named John Carter. Now, he's as wealthy as they come out there but is a pretty nice guy. One time he and I were eating lunch when this new nurse comes in. She just happens to be Hispanic and I can tell that Carter really likes her, so I give him a few 'Spanish pick-up lines' to try out. The next time I saw him that day he had a bloody nose. I told him to call her a skinny whore instead of something nice. I think he's still mad at me for that one..." the three laughed. 

"How do you know Spanish?" his grandfather ripped off a piece of bread and nibbled on it. 

"I, uh, I went to med. school in Grenada, actually." 

"Well, that sounds like a nice place," his grandmother was always supportive. 

"It is..."

"Was Grenada your first choice?" his grandfather phrased the question carefully. 

"Uh, " he cleared his throat. "Not exactly... but that's pretty much the only place that would accept me..." 

"What? You mean someone turned down _my_ grandson?!... How come? You're a smart enough kid."

"That's because grades don't measure intelligence, grandma, they measure effort." 

"Well that's something I wouldn't know. I never went to school... not one like yours at least." 

"Humph. Consider yourself blessed." 

"You didn't want to try to get better grades?" his grandfather was still chewing on his bread. 

Dave was getting ancy. "I _did_ try. I gave a lot, but I guess it wasn't enough... I guess I just had too much going on outside of school..."

"Hah! I bet you had girls lined up from here around the block for a chance to see that smile of yours!" his grandmother teased. 

Dave blushed. "Not exactly…" he chuckled.

"Well, the important thing is that you made it. You're a doctor. And a damn good one, I'll bet." His grandfather was sincere.

Dave looked down at his grandfather's remark. "I don't know about that..." Comanche began to chew on his shoelaces. "Hey little guy…" he bent down rather painfully and scooped up the little dog who immediately began to squirm.

His grandmother walked over and took the pup from his arms. "You're lucky I like dogs…" she scratched his fluffy head. "But even so, he stays in the garage. I don't want him peeing on my floor." 

"Sure… thanks for letting him stay with us. I've gotten too attached to the little guy…"

"No problem… I used to have a yellow lab. Lucky was he name. But your Comanche here is a lot hairier than mine," she grinned as she let the puppy chew on her finger. 

"Yah, I think he's half golden retriever."

"Well," his grandfather pushed away from the table. "As interesting as dogs are, I have to go into town early tomorrow morning and should probably hit the sack."

"Ooooh… I better go with you tomorrow. I need to stop by Louise's and Thelma's. Last I heard Louise is sick and Thelma's mother just passed away. You want to come, David? You'll have to wake up at five, like us," she smiled at her obviously all ready drained grandson. 

Dave laughed. "No, that's okay… by the time I wake up you'll probably be back all ready." 

She laughed again. "Nah. But you just stay put and relax. This is your vacation; I don't want you doing anything. You're welcome to anything in the house." She kissed him on the forehead. "I'll seeya tomorrow, sweetie." 

"Good night grandma," he rose and his grandpa gave him a hug. 

"Sleep well kiddo." 

"You betcha. I've slept in that bed for so many summers… I know it's comfortable." he glanced at his corner where his bed and possessions were. 

His grandpa chuckled. "Yep. Well, I'm gonna put the little whippersnapper out. You can bring him in the morning… just make sure he doesn't piss on anything. Your grandmother's very, uh, peculiar about her carpet."

"Don't worry Gramps, I've got it covered."

"'Night Little Shining Eyes!" he heard his grandma call after exiting the hall bathroom. His grandfather trailed down the hall after her.

"Goodnight Morning Bird. 'Night Stone Elk."

"Sweet dreams!"


	14. Chapter 14

Dave lay in bed, thinking about the events of the past few days after his attack. He picked up the soft teddy bear that Jing-Mei had given him and inhaled its sweet scent. He relaxed his arms across his chest and the bear, enjoying the comfort of his stuffed friend. He couldn't help but smile.'I knew she didn't hate me..' He closed his eyes and sighed. His sides still hurt and his temple and healing black eye were still sore when he touched them. He remembered when he'd first returned to his apartment after leaving the hospital. Esperanza must have been keeping tabs on his apartment for she knew when he had returned and showed up and hour later with his puppy.  
  
He'd been resting on the couch with his eyes closed when he'd heard the doorbell ring. Sighing, he rose and trudged over to the door, rubbing his eyes and noticing for the first time how dark it had gotten outside and that he hadn't turned on any lights yet. He opened the door and gave a weak- spirited smile to the waiting Esperanza. "Hey."  
  
She grinned, her Hispanic beauty still radiant despite her age. "I thought you might be missing the little guy."  
  
Dave smiled as he took Comanche from her arms. "Hey buddy, remember me?" Comanche stared at him blankly for a few seconds before suddenly lurching forward to lick his face. "I guess that's a yes," Dave chuckled. "Would you like to come in?"  
  
Esperanza nodded as she looked at him kindly. He stepped aside to make room for her and was momentarily pondering how to put Comanche on the floor again. He bent his knees and let the puppy jump; even this small movement was painful and he sat down, leaning his head back breathing out sharply in an attempt to shift his focus from the pain. She sat down in a chair near the couch where he was seated. "That bad, huh?"  
  
Dave moaned and rubbed his eyes, more frustrated with his weak, uncomfortable state than in intense pain.  
  
"Have they given you anything for the pain?" She could see the anguish on the younger man's face.  
  
"Yeah," he shifted his gave to her. "But it doesn't help much."  
  
She smiled empathetically. "It's the emotional pain that hurts the most, isn't it?"  
  
Dave was looking down and slowly nodded. She rose and moved to the vacant cushion next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" Dave gave her a sarcastic grin.  
  
She smiled back, "Maybe some other time, heh?"  
  
Dave was quiet and looking over at the bookcase. "I was just checking for some Amoxacillin. All I needed was some stupid medicine for this anal patient."  
  
She slipped her hand into his for support. He was looking away from her but she could tell that his face was beginning to contort in pain. "That stupid guy," his voice cracked. "He complained about everything. Then suddenly the lights went out and the door closed and I couldn't see-" his speech was speeding up, "- then something hit me in the back of the head. I hardly even remember what happened. I don't want to remember," his face was contorted in pain and she pulled him into a hug as he began to sob.  
  
"Shhh. it's okay," she rubbed his back comfortingly, her own tears falling silently. "It's okay. everything will be all right now, it'll be okay sweetie." right then her own voice cracked and she gave in to the tears that now streamed down her face.  
  
  
  
Dave wished that he could roll over onto his side but it would hurt too much so he had to be content with laying on his back. like he had back at the hospital. God, how he hated being a patient. The smell of hospital rooms had never scared him before yet now it deeply bothered him, instigating some fear that had sprung up recently. More and more he found himself regressing into the scared child that he had tried so hard to leave behind. And he knew that there wasn't much of anything he could do to stop himself. Yet when he was younger he had found the smells of the hospital to be comforting for it had always been his sanctuary. Somewhere that his father or anyone couldn't hurt him. Maybe that was part of the reason he'd chosen to be a doctor, so that he could always be in that safe place.  
  
He remembered when Esperanza had brought Amanda to see him for the first time after his attack. Esperanza had explained to her that something bad had happened to Dave and that he would look a little bit different, but when she came over she still spent most of the short visit holding on to her mother and smiling nervously. Dave had kept his distance respectively, not wishing to frighten her with his split lip, black eye, and cut temple further, although it was his overall weak appearance that had frightened her most. Dave wasn't weak. Dave was strong. Dave was a warrior. Dave could do anything in her eyes. Later that evening a handmade 'Get Well' card was slipped under his door and he managed to get to it before Comanche had. All he wanted was to heal, forget, and move on. He drifted to sleep thinking of Amanda's drawings.  
  
  
  
  
  
He awoke slowly the next morning, bathed in sunshine and surprised to see that it was nearly ten o'clock. He yawned and got up carefully, reaching into his bag and pulling out an over-the-counter long-term painkiller. He took it with a swig of the water he had left on his dresser and set out to the garage to let Comanche back in. He opened the door and flipped on the light, seeing his puppy wagging his tail in an enthusiastic greeting before his little eyes were even open. "Chee Chee! How's my little puppy?" Comanche was toddling over to him, blinking. Dave opened the door to the outside and made sure Comanche went to the bathroom before calling him into the house.  
  
He had the whole afternoon to himself and was thinking of all of the best places to wander to when Comanche began to pee on the floor. "Oh no! Stop it!" he leapt up and snatched his puppy up, not even noticing that it didn't hurt so bad to do so. "Oh shit," he looked at the pee spot on the floor of his grandmother's beautiful carpet. He put Comanche back in the garage, telling him how much trouble he'd gotten Dave into before running back to the kitchen and filling a glass with water. He poured it over the urine then began to soak it up with a paper towel. There, no harm done. He bent down and smelled it. you couldn't notice that much. but still, he didn't want to take any chances. He searched the cabinets until he found a disinfecting spray. He swiped it off the shelf then misted it onto his target. "There," he stood up, proud of his work. "No one will be the wiser." He strut off to clean up and get dressed, not knowing that the "disinfecting spray" had concentrated levels of bleach and was only meant to be used on white drapery.. 


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Hey guys! My internet connection just got fixed! Sorry it's been so long! Love ya! Enjoy! And, uh, drop me a line in the review box, if you please. (  
  
Comanche raced around in the grass, his nose to the ground and his head jerking at a sudden, random, unfamiliar smell.  
  
Dave closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of air. It smelled so good here, away from the fields that used cow manure for fertilizer it did at least. Swarms of insects hovered just above the green grasses and wildflowers. Dave hadn't been to this meadow for ages. It felt so good to be back- it had hardly changed since he saw it last. He carefully sat down and closed his eyes again, relaxing as he soaked in the gentle rays of sunlight. It felt so good that he wished to remain there forever. He heard a high pitched yip and looked up to see Comanche wagging his tail as he barked into the distance. Dave slowly clambered to his feet and squinted in the direction his dog was barking. Comanche gave one last bark before scampering over to Dave. Halfway there he turned and began yipping again.  
  
"Chee Chee, come here," Dave clapped his hands, trying to get his puppy's attention. When the sandy fluff ignored him he crouched to look less intimidating and gave a quick whistle. "Cheech, come 'ere boy." Comanche hardly gave him a second glance before bounding off into the distance. It was then that Dave could make out the shape of another dog who had until then been standing perfectly still. The two raced after each other over a small hill and out of sight. "Hey!" Dave yelled, rising and beginning to jog cautiously, not knowing how his healing wounds would respond. Not feeling any unusual pain he broke into a run, fearing that Comanche would get into a fight with the other dog. He could just imagine watching his baby puppy be torn to pieces by another, larger animal. The thought made him run faster. "Comanche!" he yelled as he slowed, looking over the hill for his puppy. He heard barks and yips coming from the left. He turned and fear gripped him as he watched his puppy rise on his hind legs to clash against the larger Australian Shepherd. "Hey! Get!" Dave yelled, picking up a stick. "Go on! Get out of here!" The two stopped their snarling and the Aussie looked surprised to see him standing there. He locked eyes with the red murle for a moment, reading the intelligence written before throwing the stick at it. "Get! Bad dog!" The Aussie easily sidestepped the stick and looked at him curiously. "I said get the hell out of here!" he raised his arm as if he were going to throw and imaginary object at the dog when it jumped back in apprehension.  
  
"Hey! What are you doing to my dog?!" A strong young female voice rang out behind him. Dave turned to see a young American Indian woman striding up to him. He was too shocked to answer. Even from this distance he could tell that this woman was the young girl he once knew. Sandra was now a few feet away.  
  
"Are you deaf? I said what the hell are you doing to my dog?!" by now the Aussie had sidled up to her owner.  
  
"I.I."  
  
She glared at him until she noticed movement from the corner of her eye. She looked from Comanche to him. "They were probably just playing, Cody's never hurt another dog before."  
  
"I'm sorry, I thought." he trailed off in awe of the woman before him. Her long, sleek black hair swung to the side as she crouched next to her animal, scratching its ears. "You poor girl, did that scary man hurt you?"  
  
"I didn't hurt her, I was just trying to scare her. I though she was attacking my puppy."  
  
Sandra looked up quickly as she stood, then froze, suddenly speechless. Dave just looked at her. She furrowed her brow for a minute with her mouth open, trying to form a thought. Dave looked away with his hands in his pockets. "Do you remember me?"  
  
Sandra just smiled with a shocked expression, not being able to speak. After a few more moments of silence Dave became curious and looked at her again. She finally closed her mouth and crossed her arms across her chest. "Well Little Shining Eyes, I'd never expected to see you again."  
  
Dave grinned sheepishly, looking at the ground in embarrassment for a second and then back up to her face.  
  
"And who's this?" she pointed to the puppy that was dragging a stick twice its size over to them.  
  
"That's Comanche."  
  
"I didn't know George and Annette had a puppy."  
  
"They don't. He's mine. All the way from Chicago."  
  
She looked up in surprise. "Chicago?"  
  
Dave gave a slight nod. "It's actually where I live now. I've got a good job there."  
  
"Not still busting tables, I hope," she grinned as she bent down to scratch Comanche's ears.  
  
Dave chuckled. "Nah. I work in an ER."  
  
She gave him her full attention. "An ER? Whoa, so what are you, a nurse?"  
  
"A, uh, a doctor."  
  
"Really? Wow."  
  
Dave didn't know what else to say. "So. how have you been?"  
  
"Well. in the twelve years since I've seen you.." she cocked an eyebrow, then paused. "How come you stopped visiting? Your grandparents have really missed you."  
  
"They have?" Dave didn't mean to sound so surprised.  
  
"Of course they have. You were all they'd ever talk about. You and your mother." She paused for a moment. "So why didn't you come back?"  
  
Dave sighed and turned away beginning to wander before pausing. "Oh, I dunno. family reasons I guess."  
  
Sandra stood. "I've missed you."  
  
Turned back to her. "Yeah, I have to admit, those days in the sandbox were some of the best."  
  
They laughed. "Those were the days, weren't they?"  
  
"Yah they were. So, what's life like here Sandra? I mean, now that you're too big for the sandbox and all."  
  
"It's Snow Hawk."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"My name. It's Snow Hawk now."  
  
"Oh," Dave cleared his throat. "Sorry, Snow Hawk."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'm glad that you're here."  
  
"So am I."  
  
"And who said anything about being too big for a sandbox?" 


	16. Chapter 16

Dave unconsciously bit his lower lip as he looked around the small trailer. There was the same old couch that he had remembered; a TV that looked like it was from the late 70's, a knitted blanket hung over the back of the couch… how was it that this place hadn't changed?  
  
"Can I get you anything?"  
  
"Huh?" Dave turned to face Snow Hawk.  
  
She glanced about, for a moment wondering what had caught his attention in the small trailer. "I said 'can I get you anything?'"  
  
"Oh, uh… no, no I'm fine…" he let his eyes wander over the photographs of Sandra and her family as memories flooded back. Even the smell of this trailer reminded him of a thousand memories that he had long since forgotten.  
  
Snow Hawk watched him curiously for a moment. "What is it?"  
  
Dave looked back at her and let his eyes linger on her inquisitive face for a moment before answering. "It's just that… everything's the same."  
  
Snow Hawk looked around. "No." She stepped up to the toaster. "We got this just last year. It has room for four pieces of bread at once," she joked, pretending to be serious. It worked. Dave laughed; she had always been able to make him laugh.  
  
He leaned towards the window and gently pushed back the blinds to see out. Comanche and Cody were still playing happily.  
  
"Shining Eyes, are you okay?"  
  
He was surprised at the serious concern written on her face. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean… you haven't come back for twelve years then all of a sudden you show up all bruised and battered. Is there something wrong? Why'd you come back?"  
  
Dave fought his urge to look at the ground. Instead his eyes conveyed what Snow Hawk thought was a desperate plea for help, just for a moment before he turned away.  
  
Suddenly uncomfortable she changed the subject. "You look more Indian now."  
  
"What?" She thought that Dave's voice sounded a bit distant. She still couldn't see his face as he was turned away from her.  
  
"You, uh, you've grown up. You look more Sioux." There was definitely something wrong.  
  
"Sandra, I'm half Italian," he turned and gave her that half- incredulous smile.  
  
"And you're a quarter Lakota," there was no playfulness in her voice. Why was he being so difficult? She was just trying to kid around. "I don't know what happened to you in Chicago but it seems to have affected your hearing. My name's Snow Hawk."  
  
Dave could hardly catch up with the sudden turn of atmosphere. "Well I don't know what's happened to you here to make you forget what a shit- filled life it is on the rez. Why the hell do you think you can talk to me like that? Just because you changed your name to something that completely doesn't make sense means that you can get all righteously 'Indian' on me all the sudden? Wake up Sandra. Being Lakota means being a drunken, pathetic excuse for a human being so depressed about what happened to your ancestors that you can't see straight enough to realize that you have to change-" he was cut off by a sharp slap to the face. He didn't know where his sudden anger had come from but it was gone as soon as her saw the frustration and tears brimming in her eyes.  
  
"How dare you speak of my people like that," she tried not to growl but was unsuccessful.  
  
"That's right," Dave got the courage to speak after a moment. "Your. And it's David. David Malucci. Not Shining Eyes or some other adjective and noun thrown together." He realized that his breathing had quickened with anger as the two stared each other down.  
  
"I think you better go," Snow Hawk whispered, pointing to the door.  
  
"Yah… yah, I think I should." Dave threw her one last glare before opening the door and leaving. She watched from the doorway as Dave stalked over to Comanche. "Come here Comanche." The puppy ignored him. "Comanche, come!" If the little guy had ears he sure wasn't using them. Without thinking Dave bent down to pick up the little dog- a little too quickly. He winced in pain and froze for a moment as his side exploded in fire.  
  
Watching from the doorway of her trailer Snow Hawk's eyebrows furrowed slightly at his strange body language.  
  
He picked up Comanche and left, disappearing behind some trees.  
  
She called to Cody. When he friend was inside with her she shut the screen door and turned away, fighting the tears that were spilling out over her cheeks.  
  
"Of all the nerve," Dave was muttering to himself as he stalked off with his protesting puppy in his arms. "Who does she think she is talking to me like that? She has no idea who I am." He finally stopped at the meadow where he had been relaxing earlier. He walked to the place where he had sat, briefly toying with the idea of reassuming his meditative stance in the sun. "What the hell," he gently sat down, Comanche finally calmed from Dave's gentle scratching of his ears. The puppy sat in his lap, closing his eyes sleepily. Not knowing where else to go Dave also closed his eyes, letting the sun dance across his face. He felt his mind lowly becoming sluggish as the constant beat of his puppy's heart and his own exhaustion from pain began to call him to sleep.  
  
He was in the woods. There were towering pines everywhere, skirted by smaller, leafy shrubs. He shivered as a chill suddenly went through his body. Mist seemed to slowly creep down through the tree trunks, stretching its tendrils in every direction as is testing the area before proceeding. A sound sliced through the crisp air, igniting within him the same internal call if the wild. Stretching over every melancholy note human ears are able to receive, the call wailed, unwavering. Dave wished he could answer the call, every fiber in his body willed a returning answer to rip forth from his chest and answer with all of his pain, sorrow, guilt, grief, pain and remorse. His shattered dreams. The person he could have been. Yet the call would not come. He reached inside himself to find it but it danced just beyond the shadows. He heard something approaching through the foliage ahead of him.  
  
Dave jerked his eyes open as he felt something brush against his face. He quickly looked about in the meadow but saw nothing. He looked down to his puppy who was just beginning to stretch and shift in his cross-legged lap. The adrenaline he had felt slowly subsiding he looked about again. There was nothing, save the hum of insects and the sporadic squawks of birds. Thinking that it might very well have been just an insect Dave slowly got up, his healing ribs groaning slightly at the action. He moaned lowly as he stretched, holding Comanche with one arm. He looked town to the smashed grass where he had been sitting. There was fresh dirt nearby from a prairie dog or gopher hole. Yet something about the dirt caught his eye. He leaned in closer. There was a footprint. The footprint of a large canis. He crouched, examining it more before Comanche began to squirm. He let the puppy down and no sooner had his paws touched the ground was he off after a butterfly. Glancing once more at the footprint Dave turned to follow Comanche. Hopefully his grandparents were home right now. If not he'd call Abby. He'd promised her he would.  
  
Taking in a deep breath he pushed all thoughts of his dream aside and tried not to think of his earlier conversation with Sandra- Snow Hawk.  
  
Silent, wild eyes watched his retreating form from the cover of the realm that separated the two. 


	17. Chapter 17

Hey guys, this actually isn't a new chapter but rather a question. Is anyone interested in me continuing this fic? If 3 or more people are then I'll start writing again, if not I'll have to wait around until the inspiration strikes… which is highly unlikely. :o( Well, I just wanted to know. How about my other two Dave fics: "Adventures in Africa" and "Blossoms"? Should I continue those? 

Please just drop your input off in a review box for this chapter or e-mail me with something more private at black_hawk_girl@hotmail.com. Thanks for your support guys- love ya! :o)


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Hey guys! Well, I'm finally back, and although not much progress is made in this lil chapter, it's here all the same! Thank you so much for your overwhelming support! You guys really are the best and I've missed you terribly! Please tell me what you think. Love ya! 

"Yeah, it's flat all right," Dave responded to Abby's question as he relaxed on the couch in his grandparent's house, watching Comanche chew on a piece of string he had found somewhere. "So what's up at the ER?"

Abby sighed. "Nothing much. Two GSW's and a trio of food poisoned tourists."

"Slow day then."

"You could say that," although thousands of miles separated them she could see he was smiling. "But I don't mind slow days." 

"Yah, well this one's starting to get to me."

"What do you mean? Your grandparents aren't keeping you busy?"

"They're not even here right now. Well, they should be back in a few hours… but there's not much to do beside go on walks and…look at things…"

"Oooh, sounds awful," Abby joked. Then more seriously she changed her tone, "Dave, you are supposed to be relaxing, after all."

"I know…" he tailed off as Comanche bounded over to him, grabbing his leg with his paws and attempting to chew on his jeans. 

"So," Abby spoke after a momentary silence. "Did you see her?"

Dave played stupid. "Who?"

"You know, the girl you loved when you were a kid but then she broke your heart when you were sixteen? That one?"

"Oh. Yah, Her," he faked, causing Abby to smile on the other end of the line. "Yah, I ran into her today, almost literally."

"What- were you jogging?"

"No… actually she thought I was trying to kill her dog."

"What?!" Abby laughed. Man, this kid had the worst luck out of anyone she'd ever…

"Well, she was chasing Comanche around and I tried to scare her off. I'm very protective of my puppy," he fake whined. 

"So let me get this straight. You meet up with the love of your life whom you haven't seen for 12 years and you attack her dog?" This was too good. 

"She's not the love of my life and I wasn't attacking her dog, I was just trying to scare it."

"But I take it she didn't see it that way?"

Dave laughed. "Hey, she invited me in after we recognized each other."

"Oh really?" Abby sat down on the sofa in the lounge. 

"Yah. Then she kicked me out."

"She kicked you out?" Abby's eyes grew wide. 

"We got in an argument. I dunno, Abby. She's different. She's turned all Indian all the sudden."

"Well, she does live on a reservation, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, but still. I dunno. It's just weird."

"Well, how are your grandparents, then?"

"They're wonderful, as always. Right now they're-" Dave froze as he spotted the fading circle on the carpet where he had sprayed the disinfectant. "Oh shit…" he breathed.

Abby grew worried and sat up straighter. "What is it?"

"The carpet… I think I've killed the carpet…"

Abby laughed. "You what?"

"Look, I've gotta go. I'll call you back later."

"Alright. Just make sure you do."

"No problem."

"Oh. And Dave?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yah. You too. Talk to a later."

"Bye."

And with that the two hung up. Dave rose from the couch and placed his hands on his head in distress. "Oh no, no, no, what did I do? Morning Bird's gonna kill me!" He carefully knelt down next to the stain, panic in his eyes. Comanche bounded over and began liking his hands. "Don't start with me, Cheech. Look what we've got ourselves into now…" 

Resigning to the fact that there wasn't anything he could do about it now, Dave decided he definitely didn't want to be there when his grandmother discovered the stain. And she'd be home in two hours or so. Not enough time to do anything drastic to fix it… but enough time to flee the scene of the crime. Scrawling out a note of apology and leaving it on the stain, Dave set out for a walk again. A _long_ walk.

"Snow Hawk?" And older woman's voice called into the small trailer as she set down a few plastic bags of groceries. "You home?"

"I'm out here, Mom!" Snow Hawk called from her seat outside at a small table where she sat, correcting papers. 

"You won't believe what I heard today," her mother called from the open window as she began to unload groceries. 

"I ran into Annette in town today, and she says her grandson David is staying with them. Remember him, dear?"

Snow Hawk rolled her eyes. "Of course I do, Mom. In fact I ran into him earlier today."

Her mother paused in what she was doing. "Really?" She thought for a moment then began to put away groceries again. "Well, I hear he's very handsome."

Snow Hawk audibly sighed. "Mother, will you please stop trying to set me up, just this once?"

"Well, I'm sorry, dear, I was just telling you what I heard. Seems you two would be a nice match. He's a doctor you know."

"I know. I ran into him this morning."

Now her mother stopped. "You did?"

"Yes," Snow Hawk tucked a strand of hair that the wind was playing with behind her ear. "He was trying to attack Cody."

"Oh that's ridiculous!"

"He though she was eating his puppy or something…" Snow Hawk trailed off, pretending to be more interested in her students' papers than in the conversation. 

"Well, that's something to be said. You two both like dogs-"

"Mom!" 

"All right! All right! I'll let it be! God only knows I try…" she began to mumble as she finished putting away the rest of the groceries. 

Snow Hawk, for her part, had pause din her work and was staring off into the distance through her sunglasses, thinking of what her mother had just said before realizing she was and shaking off the thought to return to her grading. What did her mother know, anyway? She'd tried to set her up with old McCoy's boy and look what had happened then! The last thing she needed in her life right now was another, stuck up, self-loving idiot. Although Dave had hardly exhibited any of those qualities, she was sure they must be there, just beneath the surface, just waiting for an excuse to come out. After all, she knew men, and no one was as good as they seemed. No one. 

But in her heart she knew that she had wronged Dave with her fiery temper, and she began to formulate a plan of apology. Little did she know that he was doing the very same thing.


End file.
